When in Thedas
by Cassie's Bedlam
Summary: Third in my self-insert series. She had died again, and now she was in Thedas. She had always expected to end up here eventually and strangely she was almost happy to be here. Future Blight, Kirkwall, Mage vs Templar War, Breach and who knows what else? Brilliant. Yeah, she was messed up in the head. But who wouldn't be in her place?
1. Chapter 1

_**"There are men that struggle against destiny, and yet achieve only an early grave. There are men who flee destiny, only to have it swallow them whole. And there are men who embrace destiny, and do not show their fear. These are the ones that change the world forever." - Flemeth.**_

* * *

Flemeth pursed her lips as she peered down at the young girl tucked into her bed, only looking a couple years older than her own Morrigan but much like Flemeth, herself, this girl, this woman-child, wasn't as young as she looked though not through the same method as Flemeth used.

Accidental immortality, it was almost amusing that this woman-child would unlock a type of immortality without trying. How many men and women had strived for everlasting life? How many Demons had made pacts with foolish mortals who feared Death and coveted more Life then the Gods allotted them? How many daughters had _she_ sacrificed to keep her own immortality? How many elves yearned for their old immortality? And yet, this woman-child had become immortal by chance, by accident.

"Mother?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see Morrigan standing in front of the door of their hut, her golden eyes were fixed on the girl tucked in the bed.

"Who is she?" Morrigan frowned slightly.

"A complication," Flemeth muttered as she returned her own golden gaze to the sleeping girl. "A tempest mistaken as a breeze, she could change everything but will she? We will have to see."

This woman-child could either hinder or aid her, Flemeth would just have to wait and see which path she would choose.

* * *

_Truthfully, I had expected to end up here one day. If there was one fiction I had become obsessed fully with it was the Dragon Age series. I loved it, I loved the stories, the characters. I had simply loved it, in all my lives that it came out in I had played it loads. _

_So despite knowing the utter pile of shit that was going to hit the fan in the future, I was as pleased as punch—yeah, that saying doesn't really suit me, does it?—because I was totally in love with Dragon Age._

_Yeah, yeah, I'm screwed up in the head._

* * *

Their unexpected guest was gone, the blanket thrown back and the bed cold where she had slept.

Morrigan glanced around, there wasn't really anywhere for their guest to hide which meant she had left the safety of the hut. She scowled, what a foolish girl, and pushed herself to her feet, pausing only to wrap her wolf-skin blanket around her, before padding her way softly to the door and opened it slightly so she could peer out.

Mist curled and crept up pale long legs like questing fingers, an oversized tunic—from one of Mother's old bed partner—fluttered around her thighs. One shoulder was bare, the sleeve sliding down her shoulder, and her arms were crossed under her budding chest, not tightly out of cold but as if that was how she found it most comfortable holding them that way. Rich brown hair wavered in the cool pre-morning breeze and one slender hand reached up to tuck the pesky locks behind one round ear.

"I know you're there," the other girl called out, not even glancing back at Morrigan and she scowled as she left the relative warmth of her home and across the damp grass to where the girl stood staring out at the little river that trickled around her home.

"'Tis most foolish to stay out in the cold," Morrigan informed her with a proud tilt to her chin.

A ghost of a smile curled at the other girl's lips, dark eyes glancing down at her almost in amusement.

"It is more foolish to follow said fool out into the cold," she countered and Morrigan scowled, she half-turned to go back to the hut and let the stupid fool freeze when she spoke again; "Thank you for your concern."

Morrigan glanced back, a glare hardening her golden gaze; "I was not concerned!"

"Of course," the smile was back, quirking one side of her mouth higher so her smile looked crooked. "My mistake."

"I just didn't want all of Mother's work to go to waste because you were foolish enough to catch your death of cold," Morrigan snapped and continued to glare, the other girl laughed lightly.

It wasn't the giggle that she had heard the girls in Lothering give, nor was it the cackle that Flemeth liked to let loose. It was just a simple laugh, a chuckle. There was nothing false about it, she wasn't self-conscious about actually laughing instead of giggling because apparently that was more lady-like, it wasn't a laugh that was meant to intimidate like Flemeth's nor was it like the echoing eerie laughs that Flemeth let loose when they hunted Templars stupid enough to enter their Wilds and attempt to hunt them.

It was an honest laugh, something that Morrigan was unused too, and she liked it and liked its inherent warmth that made her blush lightly—to her mortification—and making the other girl's smile become warmer somehow.

"I don't like being cooped up," the girl told her almost idly. "I'll be back in soon, I promise."

"I do not care what you do," Morrigan sniffed as she drew her wolf-skin closer and began to make her way back, she paused just at the door and glanced back at the back of the girl's head. "What is your name?"

There was a beat of silence and Morrigan almost huffed in irritation that she wasn't going to get an answer when;

"Kiara,"

* * *

"Kiara, huh?"

Kiara didn't even stiffen in surprise as she glanced at the older woman, white hair cascaded down her straight back, shoulders set, and she was dressed rather simply with actual shoes as she stepped out of the shadows—Morrigan hadn't even sensed her. Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, Mythal.

Of course she would end up with Flemeth, the Gods truly loved to make her life difficult.

"I think it suits me," she said, her tone casual. "Don't you?"

Flemeth hummed slightly as she stood next to her, her golden gaze fixed to the Wilds that surrounded them.

"Names are pretty things, but ultimately useless," Flemeth said and Kiara could understand where she was coming from, how many names had Flemeth gained through the years? How many names had Kiara gained throughout her numerous lives? Too many was the honest answer, but they had their uses.

"Not totally useless," Kiara disagreed. "Stops people just randomly shouting 'hey, you!' and expecting you to stop."

Flemeth cackled, actually cackled instead of chuckling or laughing, and something cold went down her back. Kiara decided that Flemeth's cackle was a lot more unnerving in person than watching and hearing it through a TV.

"True, true," Flemeth agreed, an echo of the cackle underlining her words.

There was a lull then, a long silence that crackled with tension. Both were mostly aware of what the other one was, both were deadly in their own way (Flemeth though had the upper hand, she had magic and a body that she was used too while Kiara only could rely of her experience in fighting and hadn't had the chance to adapt to her new body which would lead to mistakes and ultimately her death) and both were unsure of the other.

Kiara knew that Flemeth could easily kill her, but for some reason the other woman was hesitating.

"I'm not sure what to do with you," Flemeth finally admitted, a frown creasing her face.

"Not sure whether to kill me or not," Kiara expanded lightly, Death had never truly scared her and after so many different deaths or almost-should-be-deaths, it had become more annoying than anything else.

"Quite," Flemeth agreed, glancing down at Kiara with golden eyes.

There was a tint of green to her eyes, Kiara noticed, that Morrigan didn't share.

"I know what you are, who you are," Kiara corrected herself and was aware of the tension in Flemeth's frame and the almost static feel to the air that she supposed was Flemeth's magic preparing to strike her down, it raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck and something, someone, in the back of her head was screaming: 'DANGER! DANGER! BACK AWAY!' "I know you have a plan of some sort, I know you fight against the Blights and your plan has something to do with dragons, and perhaps The People."

Kiara paused and licked her lips, mind going back to the forums that she had read and the theories that people had come up with and bounced around. The lore that was discussed and dissected, pieced back together. Some of the theories were brilliant, they made sense, while others were simply amusing.

"I think it's got something to do with the Black City," she continued though slightly uncertain. "I think you, Mythal, had something to do with it and something—someone—is sealed up there that you want to keep there."

The Black City was real, they all knew that and had accepted that. Some people accepted that the Maker was real in Thedas while others believed that it had something to do with the elven gods—though they were unsure if they were actual gods or just really powerful spirits or had been very powerful mages—and the Maker was one of them or being impersonated by one of them or something evil or whatever. Most agreed that there had to be_ something_ in the Black City, there had to be a reason why so many people became obsessed with it.

"I think that person almost killed Mythal," she added and glanced up at Flemeth's face to see it unreadable. "I think you know who was behind the Blights because it wasn't the Magisters, they may have brought it down to Thedas, in a more obvious way, but it was here before that. I think that the person trapped in the Black City is responsible for the Blights."

Red lyrium had proved that, the old Thaig proved that. If you listened or read the lore then you would realise that the Taint came before the First Blight, some even had thought that Andruil, Elven Goddess of the Hunt, was the partially responsible for the Taint.

In the stories, Andruil had gone mad from hunting the Forgotten Ones and plague had made her lands suffer—some thought that was the first record of the Taint. She had been stopped by Mythal and sealed away, her memories of the Void taken. But because she was a woman, they didn't think it was her in the Black City as most used Sandal's prophecy as a basis.

And Sandal was clear it was a He, the Maker was a He and the Old Gods were all males so ergo, whoever was in the Black City was male, able to influence the minds of people through the Fades—she had read one theory that connected all that, and had even suggested that the Magisters had heard the person sealed away and He had pretended to be Dumat and the other Old Gods to lure them into the Black City.

But there wasn't enough knowledge, enough lore, to make concrete theories about all those things and that frustrated her because she didn't know enough to know all of Flemeth's plans, what she was aiming for in the end, what Solas will be aiming for in the future. It had something to do with the elves, it had something to do with the Fade, with the Blights, with whatever was in the Black City.

All she knew that it was a reckoning, it involved some type of betrayal—Thedas' history was filled with betrayal—and Solas and Flemeth were working towards the same thing and were friends.

"I don't know all of it," she admitted. "I don't think I'll ever be able to trust you," she paused to let out a long sigh. "But I don't think I'll attempt to infer with your plans, I don't think you're about to destroy all of Thedas, and I don't know exactly what you have planned and, frankly, I don't want to know. I'm not getting involved."

Flemeth hummed slightly, a humourless smile curling her lips.

"You are here now," Flemeth told her. "You're already involved."

"I'm not the Hero though," Kiara pointed out and Flemeth actually grinned at her.

"Neither am I, but we have our own parts to play," Flemeth said almost wisely. "We will have to see what your part will be."

"Joy," Kiara said dryly and Flemeth laughed.

"I like you,"

"Joy,"

* * *

_I should have paid more attention to the lore and the theories that others had come up with, especially since most had a good basis for them. This life is going to be a headache on top of a headache. I hate my life fully, mostly—okay I was still too damn excited for the mess I had landed myself into to fully hate it._

* * *

"You're not staying," it was a statement not a question.

"No I'm not," Kiara answered all the same as she weighed the different weapons in her hands—Flemeth had a large collection of weapons from the men she had seduced to her hut.

Part of her wanted to use one of the broad-swords just because it would be awesome and epic to carry a sword bigger than her around and it was one of the reasons so many people choose warriors class—hell that's why she did a few warrior playthroughs though she was a much better rogue or even a mage—but it wasn't logically and just a childish desire that she had long learnt to ignore.

Daggers were good weapons, good for throwing at mid-distance and great at close-distance because of how easy they were to manoeuvre so they would be good for her to keep. Bows and arrows were needed for hunting—as well as good snares and traps—and were good to snipe people off from a distance, brilliant for impersonal kills and anonymous ones so they were a keeper.

"Where are you going?" Morrigan asked though it almost sound like a demand as she watched Kiara.

"Somewhere I can earn some coin," Kiara told her, glancing up with dark eyes after testing the string of one of the bows that Flemeth had—she was thankful that Clint thought it was a crime not to know how to shoot a bow and had taught her.

She wasn't the best, she didn't have Clint's amazing skill with the bow nor was she Katniss Everdeen. But she had learnt the value of hard-work and knew she would get better with practice. She already was quite good, if she said so herself.

Morrigan frowned, Kiara had been around for almost four months and Morrigan had gotten used to her presence. It was almost nice, a welcoming change, to have someone other than Mother in her life.

It had been interesting seeing the strange exercises that Kiara forced herself to go through each morning, especially since it was obvious that Kiara wasn't a morning person, and teaching her about all the plants that Kiara would need to know about—giving her basic herbalism training which could save her life in the future.

Kiara had been surprisingly adapt to bandaging wounds, sewing up deep wounds, setting bones and popping joints back in place as well hunting. Flemeth had even taught Kiara how to tan the skins of the animals that she hunted, Kiara had an unnerving ability to walk silently, even in the Wilds, and used that to her advantage when hunting—Morrigan and Flemeth wouldn't be running out of leathers, furs or dried meats for a long while thanks to Kiara.

"You don't have to leave," the words slip out before she even realised what she had said and Morrigan flushed as Kiara looked up with a strange look that softened when Morrigan ducked her head to hide her red cheeks.

A warm hand landed on Morrigan's head, slender fingers entwining through her black locks as Kiara stood over Morrigan with her superior height.

"I have too," she began gently as Morrigan looked up through her dark fringe before a smirk twisted her features. "How else am I going to afford all the pretty jewellery to shower you in?"

Morrigan decided to bite her lip so she didn't blurt out that she didn't need jewellery to be happy if Kiara just stayed. Instead, she took a deep steadying breathe and looked up with Kiara's smirk, the red retreating from her pale cheeks.

"They best be fit for a Queen," Morrigan declared haughtily and Kiara laughed.

"Of course,"

* * *

_I had always loved Morrigan, the bitchy mage with a hidden soft side and a fucked-up past that made me want to cuddle her. _

_She didn't have a rose-tinted view of the world—something I hadn't had since my first childhood because I read too much and watched too much TV to pretend that the world was a paradise or even a perfectly nice place—and jaded in a way that I could understand. She could be ruthless, a trait that I had admired and could relate too—there had been little I wouldn't do to survive or to keep my loved ones safe. _

_She was as comfortable with emotions as I used to be until I learnt to bullshit my way through things, and when you got under her skin, and in her heart, she was loyal and willing to do anything for your survival. _

_She had a casual arrogance around her that reminded me of Tony in a way and of myself in others as I tried to never to outdo Tony Stark with steer arrogance and Morrigan didn't have his flair. _

_Morrigan was a survivor and a fighter, I admired her and I adored her almost as much I did gentle and awkward Alistair and Varric the ultimate bullshitter with a heart of gold and a majestic chest of hair. _


	2. Chapter 2

**_"As one of the blighters, I sodding salute you. Let us show them our hearts, and then show them theirs." - Oghren._**

* * *

"You're not bad with your blades," a mug of ale was pushed in front of her. "For a human."

Kiara couldn't help the smirk that curled her lips, one hand wrapping around the wooden tankard as she looked at the dwarf that had sat down across from her. Dark brown hair was braided tightly out of the round face, steel grey eyes stared at her, and a smile curved dry lips.

"You're not bad with your bow either," she paused as she took a sip of ale, she didn't grimace though she had the first time she had drunk Thedas' ales—they always had the under taste of piss and/or dirt. "For a dwarf."

The dwarf guffawed and held out a hand, thick fingers for such a small hand Kiara couldn't help but note.

"Malika," the dwarf introduced herself as Kiara took her hand as she attempted to figure out why that name ringed a bell.

"Kiara," she introduced herself in turn as she firmly shook the dwarf's hand. "So are you with the Boss? Or just another poor sap looking for coin?"

Malika laughed before she took a large gulp of ale, steel eyes crinkling up in amusement.

"Ha, nope, not some poor sap," she waved one hand dismissively before continuing on cheerfully. "I'm with the Boss, first assignment and all."

"I thought you looked a bit young," Kiara admitted as she rolled one of her aching shoulders, she had taken a job for the House Cadash, straight off that god-forsaken ship that she had taken to the Free Marches, that needed a few extra hands to clear out some rivals for their black-market future smuggling plans—at least that's what Kiara thought the reason behind the massacre was.

Dwarves knew how to put both strength and weight behind each blow so she almost got her shoulder bashed out of joint by a stupidly large warhammer.

She was lucky really, a poor sod had obviously underestimated the dwarves because of their height and paid the price in blood. Kiara didn't only remember playing as a dwarf, but she remembered the dwarves from the Hobbit so she wouldn't be underestimating anyone shorter than her, plus she been a vicious little thing when she lacked height, height meant little if you knew how to use your strengths.

The dwarves have been almost constantly at war so they knew war and battle like they knew the back of their hand.

"You could tell?" Malika almost seemed surprised before she snorted in amusement. "Most humans can't tell another races age unless they shouted it out. My Grandpa says it's because their heads are too firmly in the clouds."

"You mean too firmly up their own arses," Kiara corrected dryly into her tankard and Malika grinned at her after letting out a snigger.

Humans in Thedas seemed to be only interested in human affairs and seemed to ignore all non-humans which was so atypically human that Kiara had already been considered an oddity in the almost year that she had been in Thedas when she joined up with mostly non-human groups for a few jobs here and there.

"Too true," Malika knocked their tankards together and Kiara held hers up in silent salute as Malika downed it in three big gulps, she simply sipped hers. "Bleh, human ale is as weak as piss."

"At least it's not made out of Nug shit," Kiara commented and Malika nodded with a laugh.

"I like you," Malika informed her cheerfully and Kiara eyed her warily. "We're going to be great friends."

Shit, that sounded ominous as hell. Did Kiara ever mention how she hated cheerful people?

"Oi, Cadash!" another dwarf shouted out and the Bosses' head turn as well Malika's and Kiara almost cursed into her ale.

She had just met one of the potential Inquisitors who happened to come from the same House as Shale. Yeah, her plan on not getting involved was going down the drain even more.

* * *

_And that is how I became friends with Malika Cadash. She would be the reason behind most of the stupid shit I would get into in the future, I just knew it._

* * *

Just under the surface, and around almost all the Circles in Southern Thedas, were tunnels that were built especially to smuggle lyrium for the Templars in and House Cadash, a leading family in the surface Carta, knew of all of them and were happy to help their stone-born Carta kith smuggle some fresh blue lyrium in for a cut of the price.

Malika hummed happily under her breathe with one hand on her one of her war axes—bows had been fun to mess around with but she was better with axes—as she walked beside Kiara, whose grip on their torch was surprisingly tight which matched the grip on her drawn sword.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked with just a hint of concern colouring her tone and Kiara glanced down, her eyes looking like onyx in the dim light.

She had heard that some humans didn't like being underground, that they actually thought the tunnels were just suddenly going to collapse without warning and bury them. But she had never thought Kiara would be one of them as she seemed to easily trust the workmanship of dwarves.

"Do you know what makes a home underground?" Kiara asked tightly, dark eyes resuming their constant wary watch of the shadows as they protected the rear of the group.

"Deep-stalkers?" Malika asked and Kiara shook her head, an unhappily slant to her face. "Darkspawn?"

"Giant fuckin' spiders," she bit out, an actual shiver going through her, and Malika's eyes almost popped out of her head in delight at this information.

"You're afraid of spiders," Malika accused and her human friend didn't deny it making her bark out a laugh.

"Shh!" was directed to her from the dwarves carefully carrying the boxes of lyrium just in front of them.

"You're afraid of spiders," Malika repeated with a tremble in her voice before she stuffed a fist into her mouth to smother another laugh.

"It's not funny," Kiara hissed at her, a scowl twisting her features as Malika just shook with silent laughter. "No spider has the right to be bigger that your hand, they are a freaks of nature that should be slaughtered."

"But not by you," Malika managed to get out past her fist. "Because you're scared of them."

"I'm not afraid of hurting you," Kiara threatened and Malika swayed with more laughter.

"I can't believe you're afraid of spiders," Malika choked out.

* * *

"I can totally believe you're afraid of spiders," Malika made a face at the spider blood that was splattered over her uniform, ruining the cloth and attempting to stain the leather. "Yuck."

Kiara didn't speak, her pupils were blown wide and completely devoured the dark earthy brown of her irises. She was leaned up against the wall, her sword drawn, covered in the dark sticky blood of the giant spiders, and pointed towards the way they had come as the others sorted out the payment for the lyrium as if she expected more to suddenly appear.

"You were right, they were freaks of nature," Malika continued as she scraped some of the drying blood off her leather gloves. "Nice stabbing and killing by the way."

Kiara made an odd sound in the back of her throat that made Malika look up at her in concern.

"Kiara?" she called hesitantly and placed a hand on the human's elbow. "I think we've killed them all."

Kiara nodded slightly but didn't look at her.

"Really killed them all," Malika repeated. "You hacked them up really well, and if there are more," Kiara stiffened under her hand and Malika attempted to pat the elbow comfortingly—it didn't work. "They now know not to bother us again, right?"

Once again Kiara just nodded but didn't say anything and Malika bit her lip in worry.

She had known that Kiara wasn't fond of heights, that she was almost scared of them, and had thought that was how she was like with spiders. Turns out it wasn't, Kiara feared them in the mind-numbing fight-or-flight way that Malika hadn't seen in her friend before.

Their Carta made a lot of money smuggling lyrium, this wouldn't be the last time that Kiara would be asked be part of one of their groups when they were delivering and it would stupid to think that this was the last time that she would have to face giant spiders.

Malika didn't like seeing her friend this way, Kiara wasn't meant to be this way, and Malika feared for Kiara's sanity if she was expected to face those spiders regularly.

Perhaps it was time for Malika to break away from her brother, perhaps she should look into making her own mercenary group with Kiara as her second and with loose ties to her brother's Carta that wouldn't be involved with giant spiders.

Like Grandpa always said, there was a time in the lives of all the Cadash to break away from the main path of the House and build their own path.

* * *

_I have three fears; heights, spiders and deep water. I had gotten used to heights, people had an annoying habit of taking me up high, and now I only got a small twinge of fear in my chest. _

_I would never like deep water nor would I ever be a confident swimmer, but I knew enough not to drown. _

_Spiders, well that was my ultimate fear. They made my brain shut down and used to make me run away in fright or just hiss at my mother to kill them before all my crappy lives taught me to fight instead of flight._

* * *

Malika squared her shoulders and set her chin stubbornly under Kiara's gaze which turned wary as she watched the dwarf visibly ready herself.

"We are no longer apart of the Carta," Malika announced bluntly and Kiara's brows furrowed.

"Why?" she asked with a slightly confused tilt to her head, and Malika hid her relief that Kiara was back to normal. "And what do you mean 'we'?"

"We're not officially apart of the Carta though we'll still have ties to it," Malika told the dark haired human who lounged on the bed of the room that she was renting in the Inn. "Because we're going to make our own mercenary group."

She had said that last part cheerfully like it was a grand thing and Kiara stared at her flatly which showed just what she thought of it.

"Do you know how to make one?" Kiara asked in her normal dry tone, and Malika laughed with a slightly nervous tone as Kiara's eyes narrowed. "Do you know how to run one? Do you know how to get clients? People to recruit? Do you know about all the paperwork that will be involved?"

"Paperwork?" Malika asked in confusion and Kiara closed her eyes, a resigned look on her face.

"I'm going to be the one running it," she almost bemoaned which sounded even funnier as she was still speaking in her normal dry tone. "You're just going to be a figure-head."

Malika laughed as Kiara muttered to herself just what they needed, reaching to grab one of her leather-bound books to write it all down so she wouldn't forget anything.

Malika sat beside Kiara on her bed and pretended to not notice the slender fingers that briefly wrapped around her wrist with a squeeze of thanks as Kiara informed her bluntly that she wasn't going do all the work and that Malika had no right to be lazy as it was _her_ idea.

The dwarf knew that Kiara had guessed why they were breaking away from the Carta—Malika hadn't exactly hidden her worry of Kiara's state from their encounter with the giant spiders—and she was thankful for it.

Some may have thought that Malika was being selfless, just being a good friend, but Malika knew herself too well and she knew Kiara. Kiara was too proud to stay around after such a loss of control, she was too realistic to make herself believe that she would never face those spiders again if she continued to work with the Carta and would decide it was time to move on.

Kiara had been working with the Carta for almost a month, had become Malika's best friend, and had once told her that she only stayed with a group for about a month as she didn't want to be tied down in one group.

Kiara would have left, would have left Malika behind, and Malika didn't want that, wouldn't have that. She was selfish, all dwarves were selfish creatures deep down, and she wasn't letting Kiara walk away without a care like she had done with other groups so she was going with her though made it look like she was forcing Kiara to go with_ her_.


	3. Chapter 3

"_**Either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret." – Sten.**_

* * *

A tall cloaked figure made its way into the Inn that promised warmth, food and drink. Most of the people had fallen silent when they entered and watched them with distrusting eyes as they slowly made their way towards the bar.

The barkeep stared up at them fearlessly, but distrusting. They weren't a stranger to distrust, though they were unused to the lack of fear in their eyes.

They placed a small fistful of silver on the counter and pushed it towards the human behind it. He sniffed as he counted the coin.

"It's enough for a mug of ale and a bowl of stew," the human informed them gruffly and they nodded, that sounded good.

"How about Orlais?" a female voice asked and they tilted their head enough to see a dwarf—she had a deep voice that was at odds with her small body. "It's filled with rich nobles happy to spend their coin, yeah? Perfect to start up."

"Sure," the human woman across from the dwarf agreed in a dry tone. "If one doesn't mind bards."

"What's wrong with bards?" the dwarf asked, tossing her tightly bound hair over her shoulder idly. "They play good songs."

The human woman sighed as she rested her chin on her fist; "Orlais is filled with bards that will thrill you with stories, regale you with history, enchant you with music and possible kill you if they were hired too."

"Oh," there was a moment of silence as the dwarf squinted down at the map between them, held down by tankards. "What about Starkheaven?"

"Have a royal family that actually cares about what happens in their city," the woman told her friend, a smile quirking her lips.

"Kirkwall?"

"Still getting over the failed coup,"

"Antiva?"

"Ever heard of the Antivan Crows?"

"Rivain? Good pirating country, perfect place to set up a group,"

"No,"

"Just no? You're not even going to say why?"

There was a beat of silence as the human stirred the stew in her bowl in front of her and the dwarf stared at her friend before laughing, loudly.

"It's because of your weak stomach, isn't it?"

"I don't have a weak stomach," the human scowled at her friend. "I just don't like boats."

That didn't stop the dwarf from laughing.

"Here you go," the barkeep grunted and they almost jumped, they had been so interested in watching the dwarf and the human that they had forgotten where they were.

They bowed their head in thanks as their clawed hands carefully took the bowl and tankard before scanning the room for a place to sit and enjoy their first meal as a free person.

The other groups of humans and few dwarves glared at them, saying without words that they weren't welcome to sit with them, and the only table that had free seats was with the two women that didn't seem to be aware of them entering the Inn.

Slowly, almost shuffling, they made their way to the table and softly put their tankard and bowl down.

The dwarf stared up at them with suspicious steel eyes while the human just glanced up almost calmly with earthy brown eyes which actually made them shift under their bulky cloak.

"Take a seat," the human waved a hand without a care before turning back to her own stew and the map, grumbling the dwarf did the same.

They pulled the free seat out and carefully sat before lowering their hood warily.

"Well fuck," the dwarf was staring at them again, no longer suspicious but disbelieving and shocked. "I didn't know they had _women_."

The human snorted, amused, as she looked at her friend.

"Really, Malika?" she asked with her own brand of disbelief. "You didn't even think the Qunari had women?"

"Well, we never see them," 'Malika' huffed and crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive move before shooting another glance at them which turned into a stare, a more appalled look in her steel eyes. "What's wrong with your mouth?"

That finally made the human turn to stare at them, earthy eyes went hard and flat like volcanic earth as they narrowed at the blood around their mouth and seeping from their lips.

"Saarebas," slipped from the human's lips in an angered hiss and they flinched.

"Sera-what-it?" Malika questioned confused as the human reached out, ignoring their flinch and their hands sparking, and grabbed their chin with a gentle but unyielding grip. "Whoa, mage!"

"Shut up, Malika," the human told her friend, her gaze fixed to their wide ashy grey eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The human spoke slower, softer, and didn't once waver in her gaze.

"But I need to treat your lips before you eat," the human's tone was firm which was at odds with her naturally soft tone of voice. "I'm just going to help you, do you understand?"

A shallow nod and the human nodded back, pleased.

"Get my med-bag, Malika," the human ordered, not asked, and the dwarf muttered—"you still haven't told me why you call it a med-bag,"—and left the table. "My name is Kiara, did you have a nickname before Saarebas?"

The human had surprising knowledge of the Qun, especially for one so young.

"Saya," they croaked out through cracked and aching lips, remembering how her brothers and sisters used to call her that before her defect came apparent and they had taken her away, sewed up her lips and cut her horns before chaining her like the beast she was in their eyes.

* * *

Malika knew that look in Kiara's eyes, it was the same look that she had gained when she saw a hurt starving mutt and decided to take it in, and was resigned to what was going to happen as she carefully balanced all their bowls and tankards on the tray that she had nicked of the barkeep as she followed Kiara and the Qunari—Saya apparently—up to their room because Kiara had gotten annoyed about the stares of the other punters and their mutters of getting the Templars—Kiara had been an amazing sight as she stood tall, simply even taller than the Qunari, and glared at them with near-black eyes as she told them in simple terms what exactly she would do to each and every one of them if they even made a move to get any Templars which made almost all of them piss themselves, Malika was sure of that—and had decided to treat Saya in their room.

Said fore mentioned mutt growled when they entered the room, ears pulled back and teeth bared, but a sharp snap of 'Logan' made him subside with a huff as he laid back down on Kiara's bed though he didn't move his dark eyes from Saya, who had automatically growled back and subsided at Kiara's snap too.

At least Malika knew that Kiara would be able to tame the Qunari, she couldn't help but think as she carefully placed their tray on the table before sitting beside the large shaggy dog and patting its wiry black fur.

Kiara made Saya sit on Malika's bed before she rummaged in her so-called 'med-bag' and pulling out small tins of various pastes and ointments and thin vials of tonics. Kiara wasn't that great at herbalism but she knew how to make the basics which was all she needed to treat Saya's mouth.

Malika winced as she realised where the blood was coming from and stared in horror at Saya as Kiara gently dapped a sealing salve at the punctures that came from someone sewing her mouth shut.

"What the Stone?" Malika had slipped into her Grandpa's way of cursing in her shock and horror, and Kiara glanced over her shoulder.

"Qunari call their mages, Saarebas, which means dangerous thing," Kiara's lips thinned and curled in disgust. "They are treated as weapons and are never left alone. Keeping them chained and their lips sewed up is how they are kept under control, sometimes their tongues are cut out too. Luckily, our new friend here still has her tongue."

"It is the will of the Qun," Saya croaked out and Malika darted over for a tankard of ale and pressed into those large hands, Kiara took it before Saya could drink anything and poured a pain tonic in it before pressing it back into Saya's hands. "We are dangerous."

Saya spoke with an almost growling tone and Malika wondered if that was because she had to communicate for most of her life in growls.

"So am I," Kiara told her bluntly, almost darkly. "Drink."

Saya drank in small sips while Kiara attacked Saya's hair, untangling the long braids and untying them—she placed the various things like feathers and carved bone, perhaps Saya's version of charms?, on the bedside table—before wetting her hands and running her fingers through the greyish locks until they were almost completely stark white.

Malika stared at Saya, she had stubs instead of horns, and her skin a light purplish colour, her clothes under her bulky cloak was ragged. She wasn't as broad or as tall as the male Qunari that Malika had seen in the past, she was still a lot taller and broader than any humans that she had seen.

"I guess we've found our first recruit, huh?" Malika offered weakly and Kiara's lips barely twitched.

"Yes," a fiercely protective look entered Kiara's dark gaze. "We have."

Malika almost shivered and almost pitied any Qunari that they would come across if they took offense to them having Saya because Kiara had that look that said she would destroy them.

"We're not going to Rivain," Kiara said firmly as she turned her attention to checking Saya for other wounds and Malika nodded.

Par Vollen and Rivain may have be separated by the Northern Passage of the Venefication Sea, but it was still too close for them to go with Saya.

* * *

_The way mages were treated never sat well with me, especially those in the Qun. I wasn't going to let Saya fall into the hands of the Qun, especially since she was unbound. I guess I still had a soft heart underneath it all._

* * *

Malika woke up with her face pressed into dark locks that smelt of bitter elfroot and the metallic oil used to clean their armour and weapons, one leg hooked around Kiara's thigh and one arm wrapped around Kiara's middle.

She moved back slightly, a jaw-aching yawn leaving her as she rubbed one of her eyes with a fist as she wondered what woke her up. There was only enough light peeking through the thin curtains to suggest early morning so it wasn't the sunlight.

The hairs rising on the back of her neck clued her in that someone was staring at her and she turned look.

"Holy shit!" she jerked back into Kiara, who sleepily swiped out with a dagger—which luckily went over her head—and a mutter that vaguely sounded like 'die', as she met calm ashy grey eyes staring at her from what should have been her bed. "Don't stare like that, it's creepy."

Saya titled her head slightly, ashy eyes almost curious, her long hair brushing against her bare shoulders.

"I," she paused, licking cracked and dried lips, "am sorry."

"Its fine," Malika grumbled as she carefully inched away from Kiara, who had tucked away the dagger and snuggled deeper into her pillow still asleep. "Just remember to blink ever now and again, okay?"

Saya nodded, gaze turning to the bandages tied around her wrists. Malika remembered the look of fury that briefly twisted Kiara's pretty face into something monstrous at the sight of Saya's rubbed raw and deeply cut wrists that were still sluggishly weeping blood last night which smoothed out when she noticed Saya's flinch. Saya's wrists would scar, all of them knew that, and they would be a constant reminder of what she had lived through.

"How are you feeling?" Malika knew it was a stupid question to ask seconds after she finished speaking and almost cringed.

"Better," Saya told her softly and Malika nodded awkwardly, hands twisting into the blankets that covered both her and Kiara.

They would have to get Saya new clothes, especially tailored to her tall and rather broad frame. Malika grimaced lightly, that would take some coin. They should also have to leave before Templars came, Kiara may have cowed the people last night but it wouldn't do to stick around to see how long that lasted. Humans could be very short-sighted if the threat wasn't constantly in their faces—Kiara was the only exception that Malika found, and Kiara was almost hyper-aware of every possible threat. Malika was sure Kiara could think of a dozen ways a fork could be a threat or take down a threat.

They would have to be vigil now that they had an apostate with them before they hadn't had to worry about Templars and looked at them as potential clients, now though they were a threat to one of their own.

Kiara wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, and frankly Malika didn't want to deal with the hassle of taking Kiara to the tailors as Kiara had little to no patience when it came to tailors if they had to measure her or someone else—the human had been happy to walk around in clothes made of leather (all of which she made herself), and almost be mistaken as a Dalish before other humans realised that she was human herself. Malika personally thought that the Dalish would have better needle-work, and taste, than to walk around in some of the roughly sewed tunics and leggings that Kiara threw together.

"We need to get you new clothes," Malika pushed the blanket back, Kiara shivered slightly but settled down when Logan took Malika's place next to her, and the dwarf snorted as she threw the blanket back other the human and her dog.

It was so obvious that Kiara was Fereldan, especially after she picked up that mutt. Those Dog-lords loved their beasts, crazy humans.

Malika ignored the shiver that went up the back of her legs when she put her bare feet on the cool wooden floor and padded her way to Kiara's pack, ignoring the curious gaze of Saya as she did.

Kiara always kept a bundle or two of leather on hand for them to sell to a leatherworkers, hopefully it would gain them enough for Saya's clothes as Malika didn't want to dip into the coin they were already saving.

"We better get dressed," Malika told Saya decisively and Saya hesitated as she glanced over at Kiara. "She'll be fine. Trust me, you don't want to wake her up before she's ready. A couple of weeks ago, we were on this job and this other dwarf, Bain, attempted to wake her up for her shift on watch. It wasn't yet her time and somehow she knew it, he's got a nice scar carved in his face now."

* * *

The room stripped of all their belongings by the time that Malika and Saya got back—Saya in brand new clothing—and Kiara was dressed in her studded leather armour as she slipped various blades to her with Logan watching her with his big head resting on his crossed paws.

"We leaving?" Malika asked, automatically reaching for her own studded leather that had been placed on her pack with her duel-axes.

"Yep," Kiara answered, clever slender fingers helping Malika with some of the trickier latches.

"Where too?" Malika asked as Saya casually lifted both heavy packs on to her shoulder.

"Kirkwall," Kiara smirked at Malika's face before clicking her tongue, Logan jumped down and came to a stop at her legs. "I need to find a dwarf with information about an Emporium. You staying with us?"

Saya didn't even hesitate.

"Yes,"

* * *

_The only place I could think of that would sell staffs and/or magic tomes was the Black Emporium which was in Kirkwall, not the best place to take a mage into admittedly. Especially after the previous Viscount attempted his little coup against the Templars so they were still ridding from their high of victory and Meredith had just been put in power._

_Hopefully, Bartrand or Varric would be willing to help us in getting an invite. _


	4. Chapter 4

"_**There's power in stories, though. That's all history is: the best tales. The ones that last. Might as well be mine." – Varric Tethras.**_

* * *

_Why don't you do something useful, Varric? Instead of spending all day in your room, reading your sodding books, why don't you learn something from Bartrand? He actually does something to help the House. Well, Uncle, at least in my room I wouldn't have gotten kidnapped. _Varric thought to himself as he tested the strength of the ropes that bound him.

Bartrand had seriously pissed off someone royally this time if they already decided to kidnap family members. He normally had time enough to warn them about whomever he pissed off, Varric would normally be able to enjoy the sight of his mother slapping Bartrand around the head before she hired some goons to protect them—or act like cannon-fodder—and they would just stay in for a little while—or the goons would be sent to massacred them if Mother was that pissed off.

"You know," Varric began as casually as he could, catching the attention of the two burly humans that had taken him. "Bartrand doesn't like me that much, so whatever you're hoping to gain from this, is probably not going to happen."

"We don't care," the slightly taller one shrugged easily. "We get paid anyway."

"Oh,"

Great, he was dealing with people that were going to be paid no matter what. You couldn't bullshit with those people, he should know as he had tried before and failed. Just his luck, he would have to wait to be recused.

The door to the tiny cramped space was suddenly opened and a brunette dwarven woman was standing there—a rather cute one, he might add.

"Oh," she seemed surprised to find him tied to a chair with two armed humans in front of him, all three of them gaping at her in shock. "Wow, crime really is everywhere in Kirkwall." She actually seemed pleased by that fact before she ignored the humans and peered at him with steel grey eyes. "Are you Varric Tethras?"

"Err, yeah." Varric answered hesitantly and watched her face light up before she turned her head slightly.

"Kiara! I found him!" she shouted in delight before a human appeared behind her.

This, he supposed, was Kiara. She was young, probably about two years younger than his eighteen, around the age that parents really started to worry about what their offspring get up too. Long dark hair, that shone red under the sunlight, was pulled back and twisted with decorated bits of metal pinning it in place and out of her fierce earthy brown eyes.

"Well damn," she barely glanced at the two men in front of him, her gaze more focused on him. "That was easier than I thought."

"Hey," one of his guards snapped, obviously snapping out of his shock, "This is private business."

The women blinked at him.

"Was that meant to be a threat?" the dwarf asked, her tone unimpressed. "Because that was weak as piss."

"What is it with you and piss?" Kiara asked randomly, tilting her head towards her short friend and Varric almost gaped—seriously? She was going to question her friend rather than deal with his armed kidnappers? "'This ale is as weak as piss,' 'That spider almost scared the piss out of you,' 'I could piss hotter than this bath!'"

"Well," the dwarf almost adopted a lecturing stance. "Pissing is something we all do, so it's something all races will understand, right? Plus it makes people uncomfortable," the dwarf sniggered, "especially humans, can't stand to hear a perfectly normal bodily function without putting their nose out of joint."

"Enough," Kiara sighed, looking she regretted bringing the subject up and turning her attention to his once-again shocked kidnappers. "We want the dwarf, you either give him to us the easy way or the hard way."

"He's ours," the second guard snarled.

"Ladies, ladies," Varric couldn't stop himself, he really, really, tried but it just slipped out—honestly. "There's plenty of Varric to go around."

"Ooh, I like this one," the dwarf grinned at him and Kiara rolled her eyes. "Let's keep him after this."

That snapped whatever control the guards had and one charged with his over-sized sword—Varric would later shake his head at the idiocy that his kidnappers seemed to be infected with. It had been painfully obvious that neither woman was even that bit bothered about their swords which should have clued them into the fact that they maybe, he didn't know, how about dangerous?

Kiara's hands braced herself on her dwarven friend's shoulders and she used them to flip herself forwards into the room—a move he had only read about in his adventure books. Ducking under the sword, coming up with a glittering blade that parried the large blade and moving into his guard, another blade thrust into his stomach before pulling out with a sickening sound and slicing open his throat, a spray of blood painting across Kiara's features and staining her smirk.

The other one was taken out by a flying dwarven axe to the chest and surprise etched into his face, it was almost anti-climax after Kiara's little fight and Varric was almost disappointed.

"Men," Kiara spoke almost off-handily. "Always choosing the hard way to do things."

The dwarf snorted in agreement as she ripped her axe out of the poor sod's chest.

"Well, they do seem to like things hard," she said as she wiped her axe clean on the dead human's tunic. "Makes them feel better about the size of their sword, I think."

Kiara paused, long fingers wrapped around the coin-purse of the man she killed, and looked at her friend in disbelief.

"Did you honestly just say that?" Kiara asked in stunned disbelief and rising amusement. "With a straight face and all?"

"Say what?" her friend blinked steel eyes innocently and Kiara snorted, the amusement and disbelief warring across her features, as she straightened from her crouch with coin-purse clutched in one hand.

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything," Varric decided to pipe up. "But can you untie me? These ropes are starting to itch."

"Sure," the dwarven maiden—he really had to get her name—chirped as Kiara liberated the coin purse from the other body and eye the kidnappers' quite useless weapons with a critical eye. "I'm Malika, by the way."

"I'm Varric," he offered as she cut the rope with a knife. "But you seem to already know that."

"Yep," Malika grinned at him as she let the rope fall. "Kiara says you know everything and everyone worth knowing in Kirkwall."

"High praise from my valiant saviour," Varric grinned as the dark haired human look at him, a smirk quirking her lips. "And what is it you want to know?"

"I want an invitation to the Black Emporium," Kiara told him and he almost froze but caught himself in time—people didn't just ask for invites to the Black Emporium.

"I'm afraid, my dear lady, I don't know what you're talking about," Varric didn't like the glint that appeared in those fierce eyes.

"Nice try," she complimented drily, "but I grew up around spies, I call bullshit."

Varric eyed her carefully. There was few spies in Thedas, well true spies anyway. Some could say the Bards are spies, but they played entertainer, lover and assassin more than they played spy.

The people that were called themselves spies were dangerous, everything about them was a lie on top of another lie—Varric was half-certain that these people had forgotten everything about who they truly were, too stuck in their lies—and to find a woman, still young enough to be classed a girl but with the fierce eyes of a woman, that had grown up with them? It wasn't the norm, it made the woman a lot more dangerous than he had first thought because children learnt a lot more than adults thought and those lessons would have stayed with her, marked her and gifted her with a silver tongue for lies.

"I can't promise anything," he told her carefully and she smiled at him easily.

"I know," she told him, her tone as easy-going as her smile which almost made him shudder—no one should be able to smile that easily with blood on their face and bodies at their feet. "We'll be at the Hanged Man. See you soon, Varric."

Varric watched as she causally lifted the over-sized sword, toned muscles visible under tanned skin, and threw it over her shoulder as Malika looted the sword and shield that the other kidnapper had.

"Bye," Malika waved the shield at him as she followed her friend, leaving Varric alone with two bodies.

"Well, shit."

He should have just stayed in his room.

* * *

Varric knew the Hanged Man like he knew his house and spent a lot of time there—Bartrand once had said he should just live in the Hanged Man since he spent so much time there when he actually left his room.

He liked the Hanged Man a lot more than those snotty taverns that Bartrand frequented in High Town. It's ale didn't taste that much like piss, the stew—with it's questionable meat—wasn't half-bad, everyone knew his name, there was enough bar-fights to keep one on your toes and it was a hub for information of all kinds—it was his type of place. He was comfortable there, _was_ being the keyword.

Kiara frankly scared him, just a little, maybe a might more than a little, but enough to make him wary. She was trouble with a capital T, and she knew it, he knew it, hell everyone should know it.

Pretty women, no matter the race, were dangerous and Kiara_ was_ pretty, rich dark hair that shone red in the light and expressive dark eyes would make any man give her a second look, the golden skin that covered her willowy frame would make eyes linger—especially on her seemingly endless legs—and she had a certain grace to her steps that would ensnare the unwary—it was the grace of a predator, the grace of someone who knew they were one of the, if not _The,_ most dangerous thing around and revelled in it.

Thankfully, Kiara didn't seem to care enough to highlight the fact that she was actually a pretty girl otherwise she would be more dangerous.

* * *

Varric paused just in the doorway of the Hanged Man, brown eyes fixed on the table that Kiara sat at with Meeran, leader of the Red Iron, across from her.

In a way that was typically Fereldan, she was dressed in practical clothing; a thick black woollen tunic, sleeves pushed up to reveal her toned arms, suede trousers and sturdy leather boots that were probably a lot more comfortable than they looked—and hurt a lot if she kicked you. Her long hair was again pulled back and he paid more attention to the ornaments in her hair and realised it was two thin daggers, handle-less and overly etched, but daggers none the less.

A necklace made of twisted wood, feathers and what looked suspiciously like carved bone hung around her slender neck and rested against her collar-bone—Varric was pretty sure that wasn't the norm of Fereldan jewellery, and briefly wondered if she was one of the Chasind that he had vaguely heard about.

Laid next to her feet was a huge hound, which by the size of his feet would get even bigger, with shaggy black fur and almost looked like a wolf—not the Mabari that he had almost been expecting after hearing that Ferelden accent.

What really caught his attention though was the woman that sat next to her, a woman that was getting more glances than Malika was—she was currently challenging what seemed like everyone to a drinking contest (with Kiara collecting the coin almost absently, a flash of dagger when one punter thought he could causally liberate one or two of said coins and a warning growl from the woman beside her and the large dog at her feet quickly changed his mind—and probably almost made him piss his smalls) and jeering at those that couldn't keep up with her—and Varric could understand why—he had almost been convinced that the Qunari didn't actually have women because he had not heard of one ever being seen, until now it seemed.

White hair braided in dozens of stupidly tiny braids with feathers and beads—which also looked suspiciously like bone—fastened through them before it was wept back in a high horsetail and out of her rather fierce looking face. She didn't have the long elaborate horns that the Ox-men were famous for, instead she had blackened stubs that may have once been horns and for some reason that made her more frightening. She was dressed in a studded leather cuirass, leather leggings and boots, pale silvery scars curled up around her bare arms and her wrists were bandaged.

Unlike Kiara, who lounged in her simple wooden chair like it was a throne, the Qunari sat with a straight back and squared shoulders, eyes fixed on an almost nervous looking Meeran with an intensity that Varric could almost physically feel across the room.

They seemed to be talking over a piece of parchment, Kiara made a small gesture to the quill next to and Meeran signed the parchment under Kiara's dagger-sharp smile, they shook hands—or attempted to crush the others hand in a show of strength, which she won as she kept smiling while he winced—before Meeran got to his feet and left, pace a tad too swift to be called walking but slow enough not be running.

Varric swallowed—remember that little bit of fear he mentioned before? Well, it had grown. Anyone that could unnerve Meeran wasn't someone that Varric wanted to make an enemy out of.

Kiara looked up and smiled at him as she passed the parchment to the Qunari, her large hands were surprisingly careful as she held the parchment, making sure the ink was dry before she folded it and slipped it away.

_Mother, I love you, Bianca you better finish that crossbow you promised, Bartrand—you're a bastard, but still my brother—Maker help me. _Varric directed what could be his last thoughts outwards before marching forwards—to what could possibly be his doom.

* * *

"The dwarf was scared of you," Saya observed as she watched Kiara attempt to untangle Malika's hand from her dark hair with one hand as the other slapped away Malika's other wandering hand—Malika was a touchy drunk at times.

"I'm a scary person," Kiara replied, wincing as Malika's drunkenly pulled on her hair in attempt to get her closer. "I'm not fucking you, I don't do drunk people."

Malika actually pouted up at her sadly, her gaze not at all focused.

"You're not even interested in women," Kiara reminded her, almost fondly despite her annoyance.

"Oh," Malika blinked her dazed eyes slowly. "I forgot that."

"I can see that," Kiara commented drily, amused despite herself, and was finally able to untangle Malika's hand from her hair and actually tuck the dwarf into her bunk.

They had gotten a room with two bunk beds instead of splitting the group up, it made them feel safer. The rooms in the Hanged Man wasn't actually as bad as she had thought they would be, the blankets may have been a bit hard on the skin but she had slept under worse, there was no bugs which was a plus and there was an actual mattress on the bed—true, it wasn't the mattress that she had grown up with as it was stuffed with straw and such, but it was still a real mattress which was loads better than hard-packed earth under a bedroll.

"I don't think you are," Saya's handle of the King's tongue—Kiara just referred to it as common—was surprisingly good despite her thick accent, which was slowly lessening as Saya got more used to talking in common—and talking in general. "You're a good person."

Kiara glanced over at Saya, hands pausing in their motion of taking off her tunic, and blinked in slight surprise.

"Ah, thank you," she muttered almost embarrassed and Saya smiled before laying down on her bunk, obviously ready to sleep.

* * *

_I was used to being called scary—I spent so much time around scary people that I had become scary, I guess. I could be terrifying, especially when I was ruthless or extremely pissed off, and I didn't care—being scary made people listen to you and move out of your way, they also had a habit of doing things for you when you ask instead of arsing around for a bit then doing it. It worked for me, fear was a weapon that had been used against me and I could use against others now. _

_I wasn't a good person, no matter what Xavier/Charles used to say or what others would tell me or call me that. I was cruel, ruthless, a grad 'A' bitch and proud of it because I survived, I survived Hell and whatever shit has been thrown into my path since._

_But Saya thought I was a good person, I think that's because I actually treated her like a person instead of a weapon. I had been treated as a weapon before, it wasn't something I could do to another person. I wouldn't be like them, like the men that attempt to destroy me, to be beat me into nothing, to break me._


	5. Chapter 5

"_**Once more I am falsely accused of whatever it is that I'm accused of. Falsely." – Varric Tethras.**_

* * *

"What is she doing?" Varric asked Malika in slightly confusion—he hadn't expected to see them in the Merchant Guild.

Malika grinned down at him from she sat on a crate, steel eyes bright, while Saya merely glanced at him once with calm ashy grey eyes, strong arms crossed over her chest, before she returned to her watchful vigil of Kiara.

"She's currently bantering the creation, and probably future sells, of The Pen," Malika informed him.

"Right," he replied slowly, watching Kiara gesture from her place sat on the floor—legs crossed and almost under her in a way that had to be uncomfortable—at small group of merchants, smiths and miners, a piece of parchment held between them that made them mutter as they listened to the human. "And what is this pen?"

"To understand The Pen," Malika began and Varric could almost hear the capital letters. "One must understand one simple fact, Kiara can't write with a quill—at all."

Varric blinked; "She can't write?"

Saya shifted, grey eyes almost glaring in defence for her friend—it seemed she had taken offense to his tone—and Malika laughed, one hand reaching to pat Saya's arm as if that would calm her down and stopping her from frying Varric—yeah, the Qunari scared him more since he found out she was a mage too.

"Kiara _can_ write, just not with quills," Malika told him. "She writes fine with a pencil, but give her a quill and you'll never be able to read what she wrote—she can't even read her writing if she uses a quill. It's funny as fuck watching her trying to write with a quill."

"And what does this have to do with the pen?"

"The Pen," Malika emphasised and Varric pointedly didn't roll his eyes, "is much like the pencil accept it will have ink."

"Huh?"

Malika rolled her eyes like Varric was being dim and he scowled at her.

"It's going to be made of metal and you'll be able to open it so you can put cartridges of ink in it—apparently, I wasn't really listening. It's like a quill and a pencil, best of both worlds. The easiness of the pencil and the ink of a quill, no more catering around ink bottles and all that shit," she told him and he nodded, understanding just enough from Malika's odd explanation.

"Bet they aren't happy that they didn't come up with it," Varric snorted at the smug glee that spread across Malika's face as she nodded.

"By the Maker, yes," Malika laughed, before she thickened her voice. "'How dare an upstart human attempt to invent something! Doesn't she know her place? Dwarves invent things while humans crawl for the hope of using them!'"

Varric laughed, he could see some of the old—and more traditional—dwarves thinking that. And Malika's face was hilarious as she mocked them.

"So these are you're new friends, huh Varric?"

"Bianca!" he turned with his arms wide open. "It's good to see you."

Bianca stood before him, her dark hair pulled back of her face and dark eyes unimpressed, holding a bulky wrapped bundle in her arms.

"I'm sure," she replied drily, almost glaring at where Malika sat—Malika had stilled behind him and Varric didn't really want to see her expression because Malika never went still in all the time he had known her which admittedly was only around a week, but he liked to think he knew her character well. "I can see why you're hardly ever home these days."

"Bianca," Varric smiled tightly, feeling as though he stumbled across a pack of wolves unarmed. "This is Malika, Malika this is Bianca."

"Varric's lover," Bianca told the other woman pointedly.

"I would have thought he had better taste," Malika muttered and barred her teeth in something that barely resembled a grin.

"AND!" Varric interrupted, a hint of panic in his voice. "This is Saya."

Saya just nodded at Bianca, a smile curling her lips and amusement in her eyes.

Bianca didn't even glance at the Qunari, exchanging glares with Malika was obviously more important.

"I haven't seen you in Kirkwall before," Bianca began, seemingly innocent. "Where you from?"

"Further in land," Malika replied, that frightening grin still in place. "We came especially to see Varric. You don't seem to be from around here either."

"I came to learn a few things from the Merchant's Guild here," Bianca informed her. "Varric and I have been working on a _special_ project for months."

"I bet you are _special_," Malika said almost sickeningly sweet as Varric stared at them with wide eyes and Bianca scowled.

"Have you finished it?" Varric asked, hopefully distracting them from each other.

"Yeah," Bianca didn't look at him as she shoved the bundle towards him. "Here."

This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all.

Slender hands placed themselves on his shoulders before he could attempt to interrupt again and he tilted his head back to see Kiara, whose face was too amused as she assessed the situation.

"Trust me," Kiara told him in an undertone. "You do not want to get in-between this."

Glancing once more at the two dwarven maidens, both exchanging cringe-worthy insults in horribly sweet tones told him to listen to Kiara.

"Yeah," he almost gulped and Kiara pulled him back.

"We'll be at the Hanged Man, alright Malika?" Kiara called out as Saya flanked her.

Malika just waved a hand in acknowledgement, not taking her eyes off of Bianca.

* * *

_I had hoped that the dwarves had made pens, but that wasn't so. If you're ever thinking of writing with a quill, I tell you something now. You almost always have to write with jointed-up-writing otherwise ink blots everywhere._

_Some of you are thinking, 'that it? And you can't write with a quill?'_

_Well no, that wasn't just it. It was awkward to hold, ink dripped and you had to remember to wet the nib of the quill and not knock over the expensive ink. _

_Also, how many of you actually write with jointed-up-hand-writing after the school stopped demanding it as proof that you were taught it? All through primary school, they forced us to write in jointed-up-writing as they said we __**needed**__ to know how to, that it would be expected of us in secondary school—bullshit, I stopped joining up my hand-writing mid-way through year seven—that's like freshmen year of middle school or something in American and my first year of secondary schooling—and no one gave a shit. _

_Like always, adults lie to torture us for their own amusement._

* * *

"What in the name of Andraste's tits was that all about?" Varric asked as Kiara plopped a tankard in front of him.

"My dear Varric," Kiara smirked at him across the table. "That was two women fighting over you."

"Yeah, I got that bit," he grabbed his tankard. "But that was—"

"Intense?" Saya asked, a rarely seen smirk on her face.

"Frightening?" Kiara was almost grinning as she asked that—Varric preferred her crooked grins to her smirks as her smirks spelt trouble for everyone or just her amusement at others' misfortunate.

"Yeah," he drank heavily after that and Kiara laughed.

"This is why you don't become too friendly with other women when you have a female lover," she told him almost sagely.

"Sounds like you speak from experience," he snorted and Kiara's grin was wicked.

"Oh, I do," she assured him and laughed when he choked on his ale.

"So you like—"

"Are you really going at ask me who I like fucking?" she asked, eyebrows raised and a smirk on her face as he actually flushed.

"Never mind,"

"Because I'll answer if you want," she lounged back in her chair, her head titled in a way that drew eyes to the slender arch of her neck.

"No, no, just passing interest," he really didn't want to continue with this thread, he could already see images in his head of Kiara with another woman, dominating with her superior strength and height because he couldn't see someone like Kiara submitting for anyone, and he didn't need the embarrassment of his trousers suddenly becoming too tight in the middle of the Hanged Man and across from her—she would never let him live it down.

"You sure?" There was husky undertone to her voice that made him bite his lip.

"Yep," he didn't squeak, no matter what Saya's chuckle may have suggested as he shifted under Kiara's suddenly hooded gaze—he was right, damn it. She _was_ dangerous when she actively played the physical attraction card, with the openness of her attraction to other women and her lack of shame—it was a deadly hand.

"Because I could give you all the smutty details, you may even put it in one of your books."

That brought him up short, he hadn't even told his own mother about the books he was attempting to write.

"How do you know I'm writing books?" he asked, suspicion and shock clearing his once clouded head.

"I know things," she told him blandly and shrugged casually.

"I bet you do," Varric muttered as Saya snorted into her tankard of ale and Kiara smirked, smug.

"By the way, Varric?" she asked casually after a few moments of silence and he looked up to see her wicked smirk. "I like them both."

He didn't really need to know that, he decided as he downed more of his ale. He pitied the men that thought that they would be able to get Kiara to submit to them, she would break them in one night and turn them into her bitches.

* * *

_I learnt a long time ago that gender didn't really matter that much—expect for how you went to the toilet and what type of sex you can have with your lover—and what was more important was the person inside—by that thought, I'm actual pansexual and not bisexual as most would assume. It just so happened that most of my lovers had been male and so people automatically assumed I was straight, heterosexual, whatever you want to call it and I didn't see the point in correcting them. I didn't lie, but I don't actually see what it matters to anyone else who I take into my bed. _

_Despite Dragon Age being in the middle ages in terms of most technology and such, they were actually more tolerate than my home world and time—which was seriously sad—but it wasn't perfect—there was no such thing as a perfect world. There was still haters and such, and guess what? I still don't care what they think, why should someone else dictate who I love? _

_Also, it worked out brilliantly for this. I could basically romance everyone—apart from Solas because I'm human and Dorian and Cassandra as I didn't have a dick between my legs. I refuse to believe that Morrigan was completely straight and the few videos I had found on YouTube with that mod that allowed a female warden romance Morrigan just further made my mind up. _

_I could sleep with Lelianna—but I'm not going to, her fervent believe in the Maker and niceness didn't attract me. I could have an adrenaline thrill of sleeping with Zevran, I could pop Alistair's cherry—I wouldn't because I totally believed in the love of Lady Cousland and Alistair, and hoped to whatever gods were up there that she would be the warden if there was only going to be one other warden or at least she was the warden that he would fall in love with if all the wardens were going to be in this verse. _

_I could sleep with Isabelle or Fenris, or Anders—it would have to be pre-Justice because he was a real downer on Anders love-life. I would not sleep with Merrill because she was too damn innocent, like everyone's kid sister that you want to cuddle and coo over and was a child forever no matter how old she actually got. _

_Some many choices, so little time between the world going to hell and being saved only to go to hell again in a few years' time. How will I choose? Perhaps I should pull a name out of a hat._

* * *

Kiara was wet, her leathers sticking to her uncomfortably, her hair stuck to her face and neck in a way that made her look like a drowned cat and her boots made an unpleasant squelch as she walked.

She was also stuck in a bloody cave in, her left ankle seemed busted and frankly, she was too damn tired and cold for this shit. She didn't like caves, they always had massive spiders in them and she especially didn't like being in caves alone because of some arsehole apostate thought they were after him when actually they were just scoping out the Wounded Coast, and its cave systems, and decided to fight them in one of said caves and either his magic or Saya's hit something it shouldn't and caused a fucking cave-in. So she was trapped inside the cave systems while Saya and Malika could easily walk away—not that they would but they could and that was her point.

"Saya! Malika!" she didn't pound her fists against the rocks no matter how tempted she was, her ankle was already busted from some rock falling on it when she had attempted to dive out of the way and she didn't want to bust her hands up as well.

Silence answered which almost made her growl—she had spent too much time with Logan—and meant that the rocky wall wouldn't be something easy to move. Great, just great.

Either she could stay there and wait to be rescued or she could look for another way out.

"Fuck it,"

She had never been one to wait around.

* * *

Elves were a dying breed, they weren't perhaps as obvious about it as dwarves, and they did the best to combat it. The city elves that lived in those Alienages were said to keep their blood fresh by arranging betrothals from different city Alienages, they kept their children—especially their daughters—close and out of the lustful gazes of some of the shemlen that didn't seem to care if an elf said no.

Taking the fancy of the same sex was frowned upon, heavily, and love had little to do with the marriages that they had. They were discouraged from attracting and becoming attracted to any Shems, children born of such unions were always considered shemlen.

The Dalish had a different way to deal with it. They hardly had to worry about shemlens as they spent most of their lives in the wilds and only a few Dalish ever ventured into the towns and cities of man to trade—the stories that the shems had spread about them gave them certain protection as they were wary of angering the 'wild' elves in case such savage beings attacked them.

They didn't have traditional marriages, they had unions. Both elves had to be of age, having received their Vallaslin, and most were based on actual feelings. They didn't make any tonics that could be harmful to children—born or unborn—because children were precious and had to be protected, each one was treasured as the future of the Dalish—well that was the theory anyway. Relations with the same sex was forbidden, it was shunned and was thought even more badly than having a child with a Shem.

And that was the reason behind why the Lavellan twins weren't with their clan, or at least that was the reason why Elion was without his clan. Ellana, his twin, came because she honestly didn't care that he preferred other men and given up her place as First to come with him, refusing to let him be banished alone.

They were twins, she reminded him when he protested, telling her to stay. They were one soul in two bodies and were meant to always be together. Elion couldn't really argue against that and more importantly, he didn't want to argue with her.

So far, it wasn't as bad being on their own as they had feared—he could do without sleeping in caves as they had the annoying infestation of giant spiders to deal with—though they were thinking about joining a mercenary group as they knew they would survive better with a group and gain access to steady income as they no longer had the crafters of the clan to fall back on for supplies.

What they hadn't expected was for a mercenary to stumble upon them in one of the cave systems of the Wounded Coast and offer them a future.

* * *

The jerky was almost as hard as ironbark, Elion thought as he chewed determinedly, ignoring the fact that his teeth was starting to ache.

"It's not that hard," Ellana sighed, the light of the fire between them gave her golden eyes a brighter colour, blonde hair falling around her slender face as she bit into her piece of jerky.

Elion snorted without thinking and began to choke as he almost inhaled his mouthful and Ellana laughed.

"You idiot," she told him, amused.

"DAMN SPIDERS!" A sudden scream made them jump and both blonde heads snapped to where the scream, female in nature, came from just in time to see the tall form of a human stumble into their illumined area with a limp and a sword in hand, muttering angrily. "Freaky arse giant spiders, the walking dead, what's next?"

It was then she seemed to realise that she could actually see and looked up, dark eyes met their startled gazes for a moment before she tilted her face towards, a resigned look on her face.

"Someone up there is laughing at me, aren't they?" she seemed to ask herself, before sighing and looking at them with a tired look. "Don't kill me?"

Elion just stopped his next snort and hurriedly finished the jerky his mouth.

"Should we be killing you?" he asked as Ellana eyed the woman's left leg as she was putting most, if not all, of her weight on her right leg.

"I'm going to answer no," she seemed to relax a little and eyed their fire with a hint of longing. "I'm a cold, wet, and pathetically lost human in need of aid, please oh great elves of warm fire, please let me share the warmth?"

Elion snorted as Ellana jumped to her feet and tugged her down, a yelp almost left her lips as Ellana ignored all types of manners as she placed her glowing blue hands on the human's ankle.

"Ohh," the human said in quiet relief. "Thank you. So I guess, I'm allowed to stay?"

"Of course," Ellana smiled at her, always too kind-hearted for her own good. "I'm Ellana, this is my brother, Elion."

"Kiara," she told them, inching closer to the fire and picking at her leathers. "I'm going to strip now, okay?"

Elion choked as Ellana began to help her get out of her wet leathers.

* * *

_And that was how three—four if you count my dog—became five—or six if you were counting Logan. All because of a cave-in, a busted ankle and two Dalish taking pity on me and helping me get back to Malika, Saya and Logan before they decided to stay with us._

* * *

**AN: So what do you think? Anything you really want to see? Anything you hate so far? Anything you love? Let me know. **


	6. Chapter 6

"_**Tell yourself the stories you need to tell. But don't be fooled by them. Never live your own lies." – Varric Tethras.**_

* * *

The Hanged Man had become the home of the Companions—a name that Kiara had suggested, an odd quirk to her mouth and a strange look of amusement in her eyes, when Malika despaired about not having name for their group—and one could tell it was their place the moment you stepped through the door.

A sturdy long table had been set up close to the bar where Malika held challenges, her voice taunting as she raised her mugs high. Two small barrels were place on the end of it, the coin to challenge her split evenly between the two barrels—one for the Companions and one for the Hanged Man to pay for all the booze that Malika somehow drank without dying—and a stool next to it for whomever it was who had picked the short straw to protect the coin.

Elion was perched on it today, sharp gold-green eyes peering up through bleached blonde hair with gold ink colouring half-his face, with only brief twisting lines that showed a hint of his sun-kissed skin, and twisting into the same pattern lines on the bare half of his face—Elion had told them, with a razor-sharp grin, that it was the symbol of Elgar'nan, the elven God of Vengeance; Varric thought it was fitting as he had never met a more vengeful little shit in his whole life—as his clever long fingers made easy work of carving a new arrow shaft, curled chippings of wood landing just under his leather-clad feet—Varric wasn't sure if it was a Dalish thing or just Elion, but the guy really seemed to love wearing leather.

(Varric, personally, couldn't understand how he was comfortable in full leather when it was pissing buckets of rain outside)

Saya and Ellana were tucked in a corner, their staves leaning behind them in what was meant to be an inconspicuous way—Ellana's looked like a twisting branch, taller than her, with a crystal of some kind gripped in place by a cage of twisting wood bars while Saya's looked more like a scythe with a darkly coloured crystal placed on the other end of the wickedly sharp curved blade. Their heads bent over thick tomes, Saya's gaze shifting up now and again for a watchful scan of the room as Ellana lost herself in words of arcane, long blonde hair braided and pulled back into a bun and dark golden inked thin tree truck went up the bridge of her nose and branched out with thin and twisting branches across her brow and curling around her golden eyes—the symbol of Mythal, the elven God of protection, motherhood and justice according to their new elven friends.

Kiara wasn't in direct sight, but Varric knew where she would be; she would be sat at the table right in front of the fire, Logan at her feet, and dark eyes watchful for those that entered her line of sight and painfully aware of those out of it—most likely with a tankard of ale or cleaning her daggers and short-swords. Varric had yet to meet someone as aware of their surroundings as Kiara was—it spoke of dark times in her past for someone that young to be _that_ paranoid and aware of everything.

Despite the fact that Kiara could easily scare the piss out of him, he actually preferred her company. Malika would either strong-arm him into drinking with her or attempt stick her tongue down his throat—Bianca hadn't pleased and tanned his arse raw after tackling Malika down, Bianca was the reason that Malika's hair was now just brushing her shoulders and a fresh gash curved the side of her face that he was sure was going to leave a scar—and he wasn't close to the other three.

He found her at her normal table, one leg tucked under her, and reading a book—a familiar book.

"Do I want to know how you got that?" his voice was sharp with anger though he had attempted to dampen it with good-humour and Kiara looked up and smirked.

"Not really," she waved to the seat across from her, book—his book—still held firm in hand and he took it making her smirk soften into a smile as she, almost, gently gave it to him. "It's good, really good. You should talk to a publisher."

He snorted, Varric couldn't help it;

"What do you know about books? I thought your talent was for killing things."

His mouth snapped shut with an audible click because he honestly hadn't meant to say that and he looked up at her with almost ashamed brown eyes. She hadn't even flinched though her smile had twisted into something bitter and dark eyes were suddenly much too old for such a young face.

"I wanted to be a writer once," she admitted softly, her fingers absently tapping on the worn table between them. "It wasn't about the coin I would earn, though that would have been a plus. It was because I wanted to tell people stories, amazing stories that made them love the characters and care for their struggles and their suffering like they were real people. I wanted to be a writer that may never become famous but was well-loved by those that read my stories. It was a foolish dream of a child though and I have long since grown up."

He said nothing, Varric loved to talk but he also knew when others _needed _to talk. Some talked better to strangers, some to friends and with Kiara, it was hard to judge which one she considered you.

"I came into the care of some cruel men," there was a twist of disgust and hate so deep that it almost shook Varric, but underneath it was an echo of fear, a fear she remembered and had gotten over—or at least Varric thought and hoped she had gotten over. "They wanted to create a human weapon, and I had the bad luck of being the person they came across. I was just a normal silly little girl before that, enthralled by stories and blinded to the true depth of cruelty of world, I had been sheltered from pain. They taught me the pain I thought I knew was just a paper cut, stinging but unimportant in the end. They taught me true pain.

They beat me, cut me down, until my body was broken and then they would put me back together again before doing all over the next day, and then again the next. Poison put in my blood, flesh carved open, bones broken. I'm still surprised I didn't die under their tender care."

Kiara's face blanked out as her finger interlocked on the table, her gaze distance.

"My body, they broke. My mind? It hasn't truly been the same. And my will? They should broke me into nothing, I was just a simple girl and I should of broke but I didn't," she looked up at him, dark eyes bright with remembered shock and almost elation. "It seemed I had a stronger will than I had known, and that kept me alive. My body could always heal, my mind still worked—perhaps not in the same way nor with the right stability—but it still worked as long as my will remained strong, unbroken, then I could survive.

I let them teach to fight, to kill, and in the end I killed some of them later on with the same skills that they had so thoughtfully taught me. I may have become what they had intended, just not under their will, I am what they made me. But they did not break me," her voice and eyes took a fierce edge then. "They did not break me!"

And Varric understood in that moment, he understood Kiara or what she let him understand. Broken yet strong, hard yet soft, kind yet cruel, indifferent yet caring. Kiara was filled with conflicting traits and finally Varric could understand _why_. Men had attempted to break her, and in way that she probably only dimly acknowledged they had succeed in way, and hadn't broken her.

They had fractured who she was, she had pieced back the pieces and was such different than before, incomplete. Bits of the old her conflicted with the new her—the child and survivor did not co-exist easily.

He could understand the hatred of how the Qun treated the Mages, why Kiara was so protective of Saya despite the fact that the Qunari towered over her and was older than her. Kiara had been caged, been made into a weapon before, and she refused to stand by and let it happen again.

"Kiara was going to be the name of my main character of my first story," she broke him from his thoughts and he looked up at her, confused. "She was strong, beautiful, loyal and ruthless at times—everything I wasn't. But now I'm more like her than I am who I once was, I'm no longer my mother's daughter and I've come to accept that.

But the name Kiara? That helps me remember, helps me mend who I am with who I was in a strange way." She suddenly laughed lightly, a slight tremble to it that he didn't comment on it, and her dark eyes almost shiny as she blinked them at him. "Silly, huh?"

"No," his throat seemed too tight. "It isn't."

* * *

_We are all liars at the end of the day, even those that value honesty above everything lie. Complete honesty is a foreign concept, pretty and seemingly easy but difficult to near impossible to put into practice. Couples try it all the time, but we still hold bits and pieces of ourselves back, the dark bits that we don't like to acknowledge, the cruelty and indifference that we cringe away from because that's what makes us monsters. _

_Logan, Wolverine. He was a man I trusted deeply, I let him see some of my memories because I trusted him everything and yet I still didn't show him everything, I still didn't show Charles/Xavier everything. _

_We lie to cope with what the world throws at us, we lie to deal with the hand that Fate dealt us, we lie to make ourselves feel better, we lie to make ourselves look better, we lie to protect, we lie to hurt. _

_We do it unthinkably, sometimes without meaning, and only later do we realise the lies that we told. Sometimes we believe the lies we tell, we believe them so much that in the end they become a truth._

_A man can look into the mirror and tell himself each day that he is a good man, but at first he isn't a good man until after dozens of telling himself and until he believes it, and parts of him acts according until he is the good man he claim. _

_A woman can look at the man she loves and see him happy with someone else, it hurts so she'll look into a mirror and tell herself that it doesn't hurt, that she doesn't care, and like the man before, eventually that lie will come true. _

_Self-fulfilling prophecies and all that shit—or something like that. _

_Perhaps I'm making sense to you, perhaps I'm not, perhaps I've drunk too much ale with Malika and I'm just rambling without making sense because I'm shit-faced._

* * *

Kirkwall wasn't that much of a shithole, which had honestly surprised Malika because she had only heard crap about it. It was nice enough, enough crime around that they didn't get more than a raised eyebrow when they did a job, had nice taverns, and had a pretty good black market.

She would probably always have a fond spot for Kirkwall now, it was where they had meet Varric and gained two more to their group—their mismatched family. It's where they found some really good stuff and started to build a reputation that would later draw more clients.

But it wasn't somewhere they could stay, because now they had two mages in their group—not that Malika was complaining because she loved Saya and Ellana—and Templars had way too much power and presence for them to settle.

Kiara had been the one that decided they had to leave as the Templars were starting to look at both Saya and Ellana as mages. It should have happened sooner, and perhaps it would have if they didn't have the respect of Low Town, if they hadn't patrolled the area to stop some High Town nobles kicking around some Low Town 'scum' and causing trouble, if they hadn't made sure that certain letters and presents made their way into the Gallows and into the rooms of some mage family member, if they hadn't smuggled a few families with their newly discovered mage children out of Kirkwall with copies of arcane tomes or if they didn't make sure a major crime didn't happen every other night.

It had probably been a tip off from someone that had come across the aftermath of one of their protection or retaliation jobs that always ended up in a battle of some sort, or someone that witnessed one of their grudge-matches between bandits—that thought they could get the better of them—and themselves.

It had been decided that they would be heading for Ferelden next, Kiara's homeland, as Templars were more spread out and they still wouldn't stay in one city or town too long.

Kiara had left Varric with a hawk that would be able to find them if he was ever in trouble—it had a bracelet around one of its skinny legs that matched a bracelet on Kiara which made it so the hawk would always be able to find her.

They had gotten it from the Black Emporium; they also got a collection of paired earrings that did the same thing with the add bonus of telling them the state of health and thus each had four different earrings in their ears that was the matching pair of some else's earrings. Rune magic were totally badass and useful.

She would miss Kirkwall and Varric, but she was right where she was meant to be.

* * *

"Oh shi—"Kiara was half-hanging over the railing, Saya's gripping the tunic under her leather cuirass so she didn't fall into the sea as she retched heavily.

Malika gave a sympathetic groan as Ellana rubbed her back, Malika herself was hanging over the railing with Ellana the only thing between her and a watery grave.

"I'm never making fun of your seasickness again," Malika told her friend seriously and Kiara smiled weakly.

"I'm holding you to that,"

"Whoa!" Elion's voice was too gleeful as he leaned over the side, hands tangled in the riggings. "Look at the waves; up, down, side to side, backwards and forwards."

"I hate you," Kiara told him in a hiss as Malika retched.

Elion just laughed.

* * *

**AN: This will go all the way to Inquisition for those that were wondering. Now I have a question for you, one warden story or multi-warden story?**


	7. Chapter 7

"_**We are Couslands, and we must do what needs to be done." – Bryce Cousland.**_

* * *

Highever was one of the most bustling cities of Ferelden, it was one of the trio of port cities and was first most in importing goods into Ferelden as they didn't turn their noses up at trading with Orlais unlike Gwaren and had a good reputation unlike Amaranthine.

It was a hell of a lot different than Gwaren—which had been the port that she had left Ferelden to the Free Marches from—as Highever was filled with bright colours and the air was filled with the happy chattering of accent voices.

Malika had been the first off their ship and was currently kissing the stone harbour and muttering what could be prays to either Andraste or her Paragon while crates of silks and other expensive clothes were catered around her, freshly caught nets of fish were emptied into ready barrels and lids hammered tight before they were rolled or heaved onto strong shoulders and taken off the harbour.

Kiara attempted not to breathe in too deeply, her nose was always too sensitive to the smell of fish, and didn't look down as she walked down the gangplank with Logan bounding in front of her with happy barks—he hadn't been happy about being cooped up on a ship for almost a week. Heights and deep water, not her favourite things in any world.

"Do you realise all of shit, piss, guts and blood that is probably all over the ground you're currently kissing?" Elion asked as he looked down at Malika's form, a slight tension in his lithe frame as his gaze darted towards the crowds circling around them belaying his almost ease-going snarky tone.

Malika tilted her head up and glared up the elf;

"Fuck off,"

"How nice," Elion sniffed though he ruined his insulted image by smirking at the dwarf just as Ellana gripped his arm.

"Ohh, how pretty," her eyes were focused on the various clothes and such that were most likely being taken to warehouses or market. "It's so colourful."

"Not as colourful as Orlais would be," Kiara told her though she agreed that it was rather pretty, shifting her pack higher her back.

It was colourful without being over the top or blinding like Orlais would be, or at least that had been the impressions she had gotten from before and stories as she hadn't actually been to Orlais yet—she didn't fancy getting involved with the Game as she had enough problems as it was.

"Come on," Kiara nudged Malika with her foot. "Let's go off this harbour before we cause a pile up."

Saya said nothing as she followed after Kiara, only pausing to grip the back of Malika's tunic and hauling her up. The dwarf let out a surprised squeal and kicked her booted feet a bit as Saya followed behind their human friend, the crowd making a wide breach for them to walk through and sending shocked, distrusting and slightly fearful of the tall Qunari woman casually carrying a dwarven woman with one hand in their midst, Logan darting from each of their sides before Kiara's hand landed heavily on his large head and calmed him enough that he was content to walk by her side.

* * *

_Three potential inquisitors though I guess that's not their future fate anymore, like I'm going to let them anywhere near Haven, let alone that doomed Conclave. _

_But being around them, three people who held the potential to change the world was odd. I guess, it didn't matter what I want, I'm still going to end up getting involved with all the shit heading to Thedas in the future. _

_Fate likes to bitch-slap people in the face, especially me._

* * *

There was a little girl in the market that drew Kiara's gaze and made her freeze, face blank and eyes staring and Ellana didn't know why, couldn't understand.

She had long wavy dark hair plaited back out of her pretty young face and was wearing a deep blue tunic and dark trousers, an odd look for a noble daughter—and Ellana could tell she was noble from how expensive the fabric looked and how the people reacted to her. Her tunic had hints of gold hemming and stitched over her heart was some sort of symbol—her family crest?

A Knight stood just behind her shoulder, dressed in shining armour with the herald of Highever printed across his chest.

For a brief moment, Ellana entertained the idea that Kiara and the young noble were related but quickly dismissed that. For all her pride, Kiara didn't have the air of a noble and no noble would let their daughter or niece become a mercenary. They also looked nothing alike, the only trait they shared was their dark hair but that didn't mean anything.

"Kiara?" she startled under Ellana's touch, one hand twisting for one of her many blades automatically before blinking at her with large dark eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kiara told her with ease—but Ellana didn't know if it was the ease of truth or lie as it was hard to tell with Kiara, she could spin lies as easily as she told the truth. "I just thought I knew that girl, I was wrong."

Ellana nodded, not fully convinced, and Kiara's slender fingers linked around her wrist as she directed her towards where she could see Saya standing outside what was hopefully an Inn.

* * *

"We're going to be arrested if we attempt to set up here," Malika groused as she dragged her tankard closer, her legs dangling off the ground because of her lack of height. "It's too damn looked after for the Companions to set up like in Kirkwall."

"Perhaps if we became an honourable group?" Ellana suggested, hands twisting around her goblet of water—Highever seemed to actually have a good supply of clean water so Ellana was happy to seat out the drinking for once. "If we gain respect, like we did in Kirkwall, then they may leave us alone."

"Do you really want to be part of a group that Shem consider honourable?" Elion mocked but he was considering it, it was obvious by the slight frown between his fair eyebrows.

"We are honourable," Saya told them, a frown on her sharp face. "We don't rape, pillage or randomly murder for the sake of it and we don't take just any job that lands in our laps."

"We can't exactly rape even if we wanted too," Malika snorted. "There only one bloke amongst us, it's a bit hard for women to rape someone."

"I don't rape," Elion near snarled, enraged at the thought.

The Dalish had many stories of Shem that decided to rape any unfortunate elves they came across, a disgusting act that shouldn't be done to anyone in Elion's opinion.

"None of us do, and none of us will," Kiara spoke up before they could descend into a fight—and when she said fight, she didn't been a loud row that could get them kicked out but an actual fists flying, hair pulling and teeth biting fight that would get them thrown out. "We do have honour, it's just not what one thinks when they hear the word mercenary."

"Then let's just be a group of warriors," Ellana said. "A group that will help people."

"Those that are willing to pay at least," Malika muttered while Elion snorted; "It almost sounds like you want to turn us into Wardens."

There was a beat of silence around their table as the thought sunk in before Malika was stood on her chair so she could tower over the others.

"No way in all that is holy are we going to be Wardens," the dwarf was a bit pale under the flush of anger. "My Grandpa still has nightmares for fighting against Darkspawn and I've heard some really freaky shit about Wardens, we're not becoming them."

"I think her point was to be like them, Mal," Kiara soothed, one hand resting on Malika's trembling back—Kiara was unsure if it was more anger than fear, if anyone knew about Darkspawn it was the exiled Warrior House. "We're not about to go charging off to fight Blights, kill Darkspawn and save the world. Ella just thinks we should work to gaining almost the same respect of the Wardens—hopefully without getting exiled or hanged for treason."

Malika snorted but settled down;

"Alright then."

"Okay with that plan?" Kiara asked with an amused quirk as Malika nodded easily.

* * *

_And that was how the Companions started off in Ferelden. We reached out to the other groups in Ferelden; the Mage's Collective, the Red Jenny, the Blackstone Irregulars and even had a passing business with the Crows. _

_We smuggled, we made odd pick-ups and down offs, we gave out warnings to apostates—only if they weren't crazy blood mages. We offered protection to caravans for a reasonable sum, we were hired for taking out criminals that were giving guards a hard time to deal with and we hunted down some that had escaped justice—or helped them escape if it wasn't real justice being served._

_We were hired-swords, body-guards, bounty-hunters—anything and everything really, apart from bloodthirsty murderers and rapists and such, and had gained a rather honourable reputation. _

_Perhaps that was why I was so surprised to be brought up in chains._

* * *

He had heard of the Companions over the last few years, a group that had come from the Free Marches apparently, and they didn't actually have a bad reputation for a mercenary group—it seemed that they had honour.

The main core group was only five strong, six if you counted the hound with them, and the rest were merely people who passed on information, requests, that sort of thing. The common people loved them, respected them perhaps more that the Kings' Guards and the Knights that were meant to watch over them because the Companions never took anything at face-value and actually looked into things before they acted—quite a few would-be criminals had missed their date with the hangman's noose or the headsmen's sword because the Companions had found them, found out they were innocent or actually had a pretty reasonable reason for doing said crime and helped them get away.

He had also heard about their leader, the lone human of the group—and wasn't that strange? A Qunari, dwarf, two elves and a human working together in harmony. It took years for some of the Wardens to let go of old ideals and prejudice, and they were grown men and women.

Kiara, that's was what she was called. A woman said to have a quick tongue and quicker blades, and Fereldan according to the rumours. Rumours which they were about to find out if they were true or not.

Duncan glanced at Maric, heavily grey streaked hair—only thirteen years ago had it been the same sunshine blonde of his son—and a weary expression that had only grown more prominent over the years though his back was still as straight and proud as ever as he stood on dais of the main hall of Castle Cousland.

Cailan stood further behind his father, listening to Fergus Cousland whisper words in his ear with a fond grin that was pure Maric and shining grey eyes as he glanced at his old friend. Both of them eighteen, heads bent so dark locks intertwined with light gold. A smirk twisted Fergus' face as Cailan laughed lightly as he placed a friendly hand on Fergus' broad shoulder.

Bryce Cousland stood next to his King, if a little behind, with his youngest, Andra, tucked close to his side as his pup had wanted to stay and see the infamous leader of the Companions and it was clear that the eleven year old had her father wrapped around her little finger with just a look of her bright blue eyes—Bryce's eyes.

Maric hadn't said anything as Bryce, chuckling, agreed to let his little girl stay and only glanced almost longingly—perhaps the King was thinking of Alistair? He was only two years Andra's senior, and seemed further away now he was to become a Templar than he had ever been in Redcliff.

"YOU GOAT FUCKING SONS OF WHORES!" A feminine voice bellowed, a faint shrill tone cracking underneath as a naturally soft-toned voice raised above its normal highest level. "I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING! LET ME THE FUCK GO! LET'S SEE HOW YOU HANDLE A WOMAN WITHOUT HER TIED UP, HUH? HOPEFULLY BETTER THAN YOU HANDLE YOUR SWORDS!"

A jeering laughter told them that she may have not just be referring to the guards' actual swords and Bryce, belatedly, clapped his hands over his daughter's ears just as the heavy wooden doors were open and they were greeted with the first sight of Kiara—or what should have been their first sight.

One guard was backing into the hall followed by another two, each holding a struggling leg and each having red marks—obviously coming from a strong kick—on their faces that would bruise wonderfully, and one even had a bloodied nose.

The trio of guards were obviously having trouble as the woman twisted, long legs attempting to rip from their grasps, and insults questioning their parenthood, their manhood and simply cursing them fell with ease from the woman's mouth in an uninterrupted string of words before they simply dropped her without a word in front of the dais and Duncan winced in sympathetic pain as he watched her land heavily on her chained hands—he was certain he heard something pop.

Kiara hissed in pained outrage as she rolled herself on her knees and her head snapped up to glare up at them, dark hair falling out of her face, but she paused as her gaze met the almost amused gaze of King Maric, the slightly unimpressed gaze of Teynir Bryce Cousland, the amused gaze of Warden-Commander Duncan and the trio of interested gazes from Prince Cailan, Fergus and Andra Cousland.

"Well, shit," she grumbled as she made herself comfortable on her knees, blowing strands of dark hair out of her face. "This isn't good."

Duncan almost smiled at her.


	8. Chapter 8

"_**A man is made by the quality of his enemies."- Maric Theirin**_

* * *

Elion had once been a fierce protector of his clan, he had been a skilled hunter and had earned his vallaslin at the young of sixteen through all the blood, sweat and tears he had shed for his clan—the same clan that would turn around the next year when it came out that he preferred the company of other men.

His clan had betrayed him, shunned him, and exiled him just because he preferred someone with a dick and not a pussy and pair of breasts, and that had _burnt_. He had fought for his clan against groups of shem determined to drive off the dirty Dalish, he had killed bandits that thought they could have some fun with a few of their women, he had hunted for them and brought back as much as he could carry more times than he could count in the past for them and all because he liked cock, he suddenly wasn't welcome?

Fine. In Kiara's words, what-fucking-ever. Screw them.

He would have left, angrily and bitterly, on his own and he had been prepared too when Ellana decided that she wasn't going to watch her brother, her gods-given twin and other half of her soul, be banished just because of his sexual preference.

Never before had he seen Ellana angry, but that day she was livid and reminded everyone that Mythal wasn't just the Goddess of Protection but also Justice.

She had stood in front of him, her shoulders squared and her face set in a fearsome scowl as she glared at their clan, at her teacher and their Keeper, as she went for emotional blood. She reminded them of all that Elion had done for them, what he had done for the clan, and she had asked—shouted, screamed, cried—'this was how you are going to repay him?'

The Keeper's face had been set in a disapproving though calm mask as he looked at Ellana—he didn't once look at Elion—and told her in a no nonsense tone that Elion had betrayed them, betrayed all they were fighting for, and Elion had scoffed. How the fuck was being gay—the word that Shem used for men like him—a betrayal?

A fire had burnt in Ellana's golden eyes as she stared them down despite her dainty height. Fire had licked at her clenched fists as she stood trembling in front of them, and for one brief moment, Elion had been afraid that he was about to lose his sister, that a demon would be attracted her and he would have to either strike her down himself or watch it happen before the demon completely devoured her when she had suddenly calmed.

She had told them, voice ever-so-calm, that if what they were fighting for distained any type of love that it wasn't something she would continue to fight for, that the culture and history that she had wanted to remember and fight for had acceptance for all types of love and it was obvious that she wasn't going to find it with them because they were 'more narrow-minded than the Shem that destroyed our homelands'. And as the Keeper reeled back like he was slapped, she had stormed to gather her things, firmly declaring that she was going with Elion no matter what.

They had left, a disgraced hunter and protector and the once-beloved First, and they didn't look back. They had only been on their own for a few weeks when Kiara had stumbled upon them and they helped her return to Saya, Malika and Logan.

It had been as Malika cheered, short arms wrapped around Kiara's hips and Logan bouncing around her with happy barks while Saya laid a relieved hand on Kiara's shoulder that she had turned to them with a kindness in her dark eyes—a kindness that hadn't seen since their clan actually gave a damn about them—and offered the twins a place with them.

The twins didn't even hesitate and again they didn't look back.

Kiara wasn't like most Shems though she disagreed, she wasn't judgement though she argued that she was when Ellana told her that, she had kindness though she argued that she was a ruthless and cruel bitch and she was proud of it.

Kiara, Saya, Ellana and Malika were his clan now, and may the Dread wolf catch those that hurt them before he did for he would show no mercy.

* * *

She was the same age as Cailan, was the first thing that Maric really noticed when she looked up with fierce dark eyes—eyes that took him back almost fourteen years to another young woman with fierce dark eyes—and became startled at the sight of them, or maybe just him, he thought wryly as he watched the light of recognition dawn in those eyes and a hint of caution shadow them as her gaze was drawn over the three men in front of her, only a passing glance was shot at Cailan, Fergus and Andra.

"Well, shit," her voice was naturally soft, if a bit rough from her previous screaming—obviously she wasn't used to screaming threats and insults though she was good at it. "This isn't good."

Her eyes rolled heavenwards, a resigned air about her, as if she was asking the Maker what she had done to deserve this and his lips twitched upwards a bit—from the rumours that he had heard, the answer was quite a bit.

There was a sharpness to her face that was a shared trait amongst common folk as they often didn't have enough coin to buy as much food as they liked or needed, it was a sharpness that his face had held during the Rebellion when they weren't put up by nobles and long before they held Gwaren. Her dark eyes were heavy-lidded with thick curling lashes, giving her eyes a soulful look and would probably bring men to their knees if used against them as a weapon. High cheekbones, thin nose and full lips—she was pretty, beautiful in some peoples' eyes.

But she was young. Eighteen years old and already leading her own mercenary group, a group that she had been leading for the last two years according to rumours and meant she had started the group at sixteen. So young, with some much blood on her hands, and yet she had honour that most in her occupation didn't have.

Kiara didn't look eighteen, not in the way that Cailan and Fergus did as there was a dangerous undertone to even her mildly set features. Her eyes were old, older than even Loghain's eyes, but there was a softness in those earthy tones that Loghain lost long before Rowan died. Silver rings glinted at him from both ears, peeking out of her dark hair, and a cuff clung tight to her left wrist just under the cuff of the manacles. She was dressed in leather and cotton, sensible choices and offering protection—though Maric wouldn't be surprised if she also hid a chainmail vest under that leather cuirass and cotton darkly dyed tunic.

"So," she drawled, balancing herself on her feet, body drawn tight and close. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Bryce raised an eyebrow at her from beside him and Duncan suppressed a grin as she made it sound that they had come to her instead of her being dragged to them in chains.

"We're just settling some curiosity," Maric told her in an attempt to reassure her and she snorted, her eyes rolling;

"Yeah, I totally believe that,"

Her dark gaze darted around the hall, pausing on each guard before returning to the three men in front of her in a considering look that most likely meant trouble.

"No one's going to hurt you or keep you chained up," Maric said before she could come up with a crazy escape plan and dark eyes snapped to him, narrowed almost thoughtfully. "We just have some questions, and you're a very hard woman to find."

"Obviously not hard enough," she snorted before she pulled her arms under feet, chains scraping across the stone floor.

Arms twisting almost unnaturally before Maric cringed as he watched in vivid detail as she popped her thumb out of place with a pained hiss and a bitten lip, her manacle slid over her hand with little fanfare before she popped her thumb back in place and she focused on her other hand.

Maric knew that trick, it was the same one that Duncan used to get out of his chains all those years ago and save them from that talking Darkspawn. He figured it had been a matter of pride, or an act of defiance, that had stopped her from asking to be unchained.

"Wow," Andra had slipped her father's grip and was now peering at Kiara's red wrists as Kiara flexed her hands in discomfort. "How did you do that?"

"With a lot of pain," Kiara bluntly replied with a grimace as Bryce hissed; "Andra,"

The young noble didn't even glance back at her father, fixing intense blue eyes on Kiara.

"Then why did you do that?" she frowned at the older woman. "Wouldn't have been easier to ask for the key or to be unchained?"

"Kid, I'm going to give a pearl of wisdom," Kiara sighed after sending a glance at Bryce. "There isn't always an easy way to do things."

"I'm not a kid," Andra told her affronted, a flush of anger working its way up her fair cheeks and Kiara smirked.

"Honey," her voice was dry as the Western Fronts' deserts as she replied. "Anyone younger than me is a kid."

Before Andra could argue against that again, Bryce scooped her up in his arms.

"Father!" she squealed and glared over her father's shoulder when she heard Fergus laugh.

"Pup," Bryce sighed, more exasperated than angry and Maric smiled slightly, if a little sadly—was Alistair as curious as the youngest Cousland?

"In trouble again?" Fergus laughed as Andra stuck her tongue out at him and something twisted in Maric's chest—would have Cailan and Alistair acted like that if he had kept Alistair? It was something he would never know.

He glanced back at Kiara, who had made herself comfortable on the hard stone floor, and felt a shiver of uneasy go down his spine at the knowing, almost sympathetic, look in her eyes as she looked at him.

"You still haven't told me what you want, y'know?" she only seemed slightly annoyed by the fact and Duncan smiled at her—so different from his almost carefree grin from years past, Maric couldn't help but note.

"You're here to settle the curiosity of a King," he reminded and she shot him a look.

"Right," she began dryly. "The King of Ferelden just happened to decide to come to Highever and meet with a member of the Companions"—"Aren't you the leader?" Cailan's question was boldly ignored—"so asked the Teynir to send his men out to find me, ambush me when I was about to have lunch, chain me up and take all my blades," she turned to glare at some of the guards, "blades I spent a lot of coin on, I may add."

The guards didn't even twitch under her glare.

"Just because said King happened to be curious?" she snorted then, as inelegant as the other snorts that she had issued and tossed her hair back with an irate flick of her head. "You're sh—"she paused as she caught sight of Bryce's warning stare and Andra's curious gaze for a moment before continuing, a hint of annoyance tinting her words. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, that seems about right," Maric said with a nod and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I don't believe you,"

"It's true,"

"Still sounds like bulls-stone,"

"Bulls-stone?" Cailan repeated to Fergus making both young men snigger slightly and she shot them an annoyed glare.

Loghain would hate her, Maric thought. And he would also like her at the same time as she didn't seem to care about noble titles, something that Loghain still distained though he was considered a noble himself.

"You said they took you as you were about to have your lunch?" Maric decided to cut in and she gave him a narrowed-eyed look.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Perhaps we should have lunch now," Maric mentioned almost casually to Bryce who nodded, a hand waving at one of his guards who bowed as he left. "You'll join us, yes?"

"Do I have a choice?" she raised her dark eyebrows and he smiled.

"Not really,"

She plastered an overly happy and sweet smile on her face and batted her lashes at him.

"Then I would love to, your Highness,"

Duncan attempted to change his laughter into a cough—it didn't work.

* * *

There was something uncomfortable about sitting at the same table as the King, his crowned Prince, a Teynir and his two children as well as a Warden-Commander. Though she couldn't think of why it would be so uncomfortable.

She ripped a small bit of bread off her bread and popped it in her mouth as she watched the group across from her.

The Teynira wasn't there, she had noticed when servants had brought in food and set it up on the table already in the main hall. From what she remembered of Eleanor Cousland, she wouldn't be too pleased that her children were at the same table, breaking bread even, with a renowned criminal.

And by everyone's definition, she was a_ criminal_. That thought, that label, would have once upset her but that was before, before she went through Hell on earth, before she was pushed to breaking and didn't break. Anyway, crime paid better. It was a sad fact, but true.

She could have gone into the army, she supposed but she knew that the army was basically under the complete control of Loghain—and no matter what well-reasoned arguments that she had read in forums, she still hated the guy and thought he was insane—and that wasn't something she wanted.

As a mercenary and one in her own group, she could choose what jobs she wanted to do—most of the time anyway—and that gave her more freedom than some mercenaries out there. It was also a simple fact that she was good at what she did, and what she did was fight people and then kill them. Bucky had taught her well and she had become even better over the years.

"Is it true that you killed High Dragon?" Andra asked, eyes bright and wide as she stared at Kiara and something in her twisted at the sight because she knew what would befall upon her.

Kiara may have no liked kids exactly, but she hated the thought of this innocent youth either being slaughtered by Howe or tasked with defeating the Blight. It wasn't a fate that she would ever wish on anyone, and never on any kid.

"No," Kiara said, a bit amused as how Andra's face fell in disappointment and ignoring the morbid thoughts attacking her mind. "We've just had some run-ins with dragonlings, not as scary but almost as annoying as they attack in swarms."

She had a nice long coat made of dragonlings scales and long boots—like Isabela's boots in DA2.

"Really?" Andra asked, looking impressed and Kiara almost smiled—she had almost forgotten how easily impressed kids could have be.

"Yep," she confirmed with a nod, her gaze drifting back to Fergus and Cailan.

Once she had been ridiculously oblivious to certain things when it came to herself—to the pained amusement of her friends—but she had always been good at watching people. Fergus and Cailan exchanged little touches, which lingered just the slightest too long, they shared secret smiles and soft looks.

She wondered if this was the reason that Cailan waited so long to marry Anora. She certainly had never expected this.

She paused in her shredding of a chicken breast as one of her earrings warmed in warning and almost groaned.

It seemed that Elion had noticed that she was missing and he was _pissed_.


	9. Chapter 9

Twins were considered blessed by the Dalish, they had a special bond that couldn't be broken by anything apart from death.

It was because of that special bond that Ellana was aware of Elion's boiling rage long before she saw her brother and paused with her spoon half-way to her mouth as her gaze snapped to the door just as Elion entered the Inn that they were staying in.

His angry eyes were like liquid gold, his face set in a fearsome scowl as he prowled towards their table. Completely ignorant of the fearful glances that the other punters sent him.

"Shit," Malika cracked a grin when he stopped in front of them, only a trace of wariness in her steel grey eyes as they scanned him from head to toe. "What crawled up your arse and died?"

"Kiara is missing," Elion informed them, words sharp and piercing and for a long moment there was an unthinkable silence as the trio of women attempted to process what Elion just told them and then when it did;

Ice spread out from where Saya's hands were resting on the wood, cracking as it consumed the table and curling around the legs to branch off on the floor as she stared up unblinkingly at Elion.

"WHAT?" Malika's roar could have shaken the windows, one of her axes already in hand.

"She's been taken," Elion gritted out, teeth bared in a snarl.

"Then," Ellana rested a hand on Saya's, ignorant to the hissing that came from her burning hands meeting Saya's frozen ones. "We'll get her back."

Ellana may not identify with the god of vengeance like Elion did, but she did identify with Mythal and the Goddess of Protection had never been considered kind when protecting things.

* * *

_It had been years since I could remember what my old life had been life, it had been years since I could remember the exact shape of my mother's face, the sound of her voice and my friends._

_Sometimes I wondered what the people I once call friends were like. Did I have someone I loved? Loved like I had loved Logan? Or had he really been my first love? Sometimes I have flashes of memories, moments of insanity and fun, brief images of warm arms wrapped around me and I ache for those I had left behind in my first life._

_But I have gained and lost a lot of friends since then and I have learnt to treasure them, to hold them tight and defend them. _

_I had died to protect a friend once and I didn't regret it. I had taken the role of monster to spare a friend once and I didn't regret it. I had spat into the face of Fate for a friend once and didn't regret it._

_Charles once told me that I inspired great loyalty in my friends because they knew I had the same loyalty to them, guess if I didn't do something King Maric and the others were about to find out how much loyalty I had inspired in my Companions._

* * *

Saya's memories of kindness had been tainted once, burnt and blackened because of her quirk of birth. She was a mage and thus was dangerous, a loose weapon, a beast that could and would bite the hand that fed it and the Qun knew that, acknowledged that, and treated mages like the beasts they were.

She had been ashamed once, had succumbed to the will of the Qun and had been chained, beaten and almost broken because of her shame. It wasn't until she was broken free, not by her choice but the choice of those that slaughtered her handlers and left her unchained. They had left her and she was alone, free, but alone.

She should have killed herself, should have returned to the Qun, but she hadn't. She had hesitated because since her handlers had left the Qun and become the Tal-Vashoth, she had seen the world and she had seen other mages and she longed for freedom, the same freedom that other mages longed for and some experienced briefly.

So she had left, broken off her chains and cut her threads, and found herself in an Inn in the middle of nowhere being tended to a human with surprising knowledge of the Qun, fierce dark eyes and kind hands.

Kiara had shown her kindness, had given her a place, and in return Saya gave Kiara her loyalty, her strength and her magic. Saya didn't regret that for a moment.

So when Elion, another who had been shown Kiara's kindness, had uttered those damning words Saya didn't even really think as her magic surged to strike at those that had dared take Kiara, her friend, her saviour, her kindness.

* * *

_I was born into a generation that witnessed the rise in tolerance, a generation that saw senseless wars over beliefs, a generation that learnt to hurt with just a few short words that could be viewed by the world. A generation that both shared and hid more, a generation where a good amount of the people I had gone to school with had children before they reached twenty. _

_A generation of overdoses, suicides, piss-ups and fuck-ups. I was part of the generation that saw a girl being shot just because she spoke up about her rights for an education, which saw the world banned together after natural crisis after natural crisis. I was part of the generation that saw the War on Terror begin. _

_That had left a mark on me that had made me burn with anger every time I saw how homosexuals were treated, how people with different coloured skin was treated, how mutants were treated and how now mages were treated. _

_One of my teachers once told us to treat everyone how we wanted to be treated and, as all good little children, we agreed with full ignorance on how hard that would be to do. We were ignorant to how easily anger made our tongues loose and how easily we could hurt people without thinking though we shouldn't have been as most especially as children, we are cruel. _

_That's why I tried hard not to be judgemental, I guess I was getting good at that considering that Elion said I wasn't judgemental._

* * *

Malika was a daughter of Cadash, her house had once been a noble warrior house before they turned to crime, and they cherished loyalty, strength and courage. They had never lost their honour though Orzammar would say they had. But who the fuck cared about what some stuffy nobles still stuck under slabs of rock and earth thought? Malika sure as the fade didn't.

Kiara was a human of honour, a human of loyalty and strength and courage. Those things alone would have gained her the respect of the House Cadash, but she had also had become Malika's friend, her best friend.

A human had become the best friend of a daughter of House Cadash, a human had sat amongst them and had drank with them without a care. Kiara had balls of steel when it came to most things—spiders seemed to be her only downfall.

Malika had been through a lot of shit with Kiara before Saya joined up, long before Ellana and Elion joined them, and there was no one outside her family that she trusted more than Kiara.

And someone had dared to take her friend, they would regret that action.

Malika was a daughter of Cadash, an old warrior house that knew warfare like the back of their hands, and they were always protective of those they cared about.

* * *

Fuck, was the only thought that went through Kiara's mind as her other earrings warmed in warning. Just what she and Highever needed, her companions out for blood.

"If you don't want a massacre to happen," she dropped the food in her hand and reached for the wine. "You may want to get your guards to bring my companions here before they paint the streets in blood looking for me."

"Is that a threat?" Bryce Cousland asked, a subtle hand motion making a few of his guards to leave at a swift pace.

Kiara smiled at him, razor-sharp and filled with promise;

"It's a promise of what will happen if they aren't stopped,"

She really had a thing for gaining bloodthirsty friends, perhaps she did bring the worse out of people. Oh well, it would be too tiring to always worry about that and it wasn't something she could really change.

She shrugged to herself as she took a deep sip of wine.

* * *

"I'LL SKIN YOU, YOU CLOUD-LOVING BASTARDS!"

Kiara didn't even sigh as Malika's bellow reached them long before the stomping steps of the Cousland guards and her companions reached them. She must have been pissed if she had slipped into the insults of her grandfather.

Somehow Kiara wasn't the least bit surprised by the blood that was splattered across their armour as they were marched in. She was a bit pissed about the rope they had wrapped around Logan's muzzle and sent the guard holding said rope a blistering glare until Logan was released and he ran, barking happily, to her which seemed to alert her friends that she was actually in front of them.

"KIARA!" Malika cheered and all the fight seeped out of Saya as she gave Kiara a one over, her ashy eyes relieved as she took in the mostly unharmed state that Kiara was in.

Kiara was sat side-ways on the chair and tilted a chalice at them with a lazy smile.

"Who'd you kill?" she asked idly, the youngest Cousland had already been shuffled from the room so she had no need to be on her best behaviour now.

"A few slavers and such," Malika shrugged carelessly, and Kiara snorted, Malika's definition of a few differed greatly from what normal people considered a few, before she shimmed out of the guards hold with ease, one hand swiping one of her axes back with a glare when the guard made a move to stop her. "No one anyone will miss."

"Murder is a crime in Ferelden," Maric spoke up and Malika did a double take at the man.

"Holy shit," Malika let out an admiring whistle. "You got kidnapped by a king."

"A shemlen king," Elion snorted as he near-ripped his arm from the guard and glared at the guard holding Ellana until he let go of his sister, he pulled Ellana towards him though she danced out of his grip and headed towards Kiara. "I expected more from you."

Kiara laughed lightly and smirked as Ellana's hands glowed blue and she reached for her abused wrists, aware of the intent gazes being levelled at her both her Dalish friend and her Qunari one.

"I was curious," she shrugged and Elion snorted as he snatched his bow back from one of the guards.

* * *

"I doubt your wife would approve of you letting criminals stay in your home,"

Bryce didn't startle, he had noticed her sitting on one of his leather bound chairs when he entered his study but ignored her as he poured Maric, Duncan and himself some wine.

"It is a lucky thing that my wife is not here then," Bryce finally answered as he handed out the goblets. "For you that is."

Her smile was bright in the fire light as she sipped from her own half-empty goblet.

"I had heard that she was a wonder with the bow in the Rebellion years," there was a hint of admiration in Kiara's tone and Bryce smiled slightly with pride—yes, Eleanor had been a sight to behold during the Rebellion.

"Is there a reason you decided to lurk in the Teynir's study instead of staying with you companions?" Duncan asked, dark eyes watchful and Kiara tilted her head slightly.

"You wanted me here for some reason," she began, "I'm not foolish enough to believe that you have all the answers you seek, and I actually have a few favours to ask of yourselves."

"And why would we grant you favours?" Maric asked as he twisted his crest ring and Kiara's shadowed face went completely serious and intent.

"Because it involves the future of Ferelden, the future of your youngest children's lives and the on-coming Blight,"

That certainly caught all of their attention and made them all focus intently on the young woman in the room.

* * *

Highever would never forget the hour that the Companions had unleashed their fury on any that they had thought had taken their leader. Over fifty people were killed as they searched for their missing leader—they would say that the sea around the docks were ran red with all the blood, that sharks actually came into the harbour and feasted on the floating corpses that the Companions had carelessly thrown in.

Four people against over fifty and they won, and no one would forget that.

It was said that Loghain Mac Tir had called for their heads, but the King had overruled him and offered the Companions almost the same liberties as the Grey Wardens—something unheard of before.

In Ferelden, the Companions gained a better reputation then the Grey Wardens as they had yet to attempt to overthrow a King and they actually seemed to help people unlike the Grey Wardens that stayed vigil in the shadows.

That would only help them in the future, Kiara knew that.


	10. Chapter 10

"You know about my son," was the first thought Maric could voice and Kiara inclined her head.

"Yes I do," she agreed, her features set mildly as she watched him, dark eyes glancing down to his clenching hands and flicking over to where Duncan shifted. "I mean him no harm."

For a moment Maric actually considered killing her, staring into her dark eyes he didn't see a woman the same age as Cailan, all Maric could see was a threat to Alistair. To his youngest son, a threat to his life, to his well-being and then he blinked and Duncan had one of his daggers pressed hard against her neck, her eyes were slightly wide in surprise as blood dripped down her long neck and she looked so young that those thoughts fled as quickly as they came.

"Duncan," he waved his old friend back and Duncan hesitated for just a moment, long enough for Maric to realise that he couldn't actually order Duncan to spare her life and wonder if he was going to watch the girl with fire in her eyes die.

"Shit," she cursed, eyebrows pulled together as she pressed against her throat. "What the fuck is wrong with you? I said I mean him no harm, can you suddenly not understand common?"

"Be careful with how you speak to the king," Bryce told her and she glared, blood seeping between her long fingers.

"He's not my king!" she said defiantly and Maric felt something twist his chest—she could have been Fiona's daughter with all her fire and her dark soulful eyes.

He could tell Duncan felt the same way as his lips almost tugged up in a smile as he took a step back.

"But he is my king and I would ask you to show him respect while under my roof," Bryce countered and she scowled.

"As long as no more blades get put to my throat," she agreed almost sourly, her mild-manner long gone.

"Of course, you are my guest as well," Bryce nodded and shot Maric a look.

They had shared bread and salt, it would be breaking the oldest traditions to kill her now. Almost as old as not killing someone in a Chantry—Maric hadn't held to that tradition but he would with this one.

"What is this about the Blight?" Duncan asked sharply and she scanned them before piercing the king with her gaze, a kindling of warning in those dark eyes.

"Keep him close and he'll betray you again and again, each time worse than the last," she recited easily and Maric's eyes narrowed, a sudden understanding coming over him.

"You know the Witch of the Wilds," he accused and she nodded easily.

"She saved my life," she quirked a smirk. "Sound familiar?"

"What did she ask in return?" he asked because he knew that that particular witch always bargained and never did something out of the kindness of her heart.

"That I not get involved with her plans," she shrugged carelessly as a tingle of unease went down Maric's spine.

"And what are her plans?" Maric pressed and Kiara smirked.

"I didn't ask," she told him still as carelessly as she leaned back into the chair. "Now will you listen to me?"

"Very well," Maric allowed and Kiara's eyes barely rolled.

* * *

**How does a father cope with the knowledge that one of his son will die? That a woman that could protect him and save him from that fate wouldn't because she believed his younger son would make the better king. **

**How does a king cope with the fact that his kingdom will be torn apart and one of his oldest friends would be one of the causes behind it? That the fate of his kingdom would be left in the hands of the bastard son that he had given up?**

**How does a man come to terms with his on-coming death? **

**He guess he would have to wait and see.**

* * *

_Again, I didn't share everything. Sharing everything would make what I knew useless, and somethings had to happen. _

_The Blight would happen no matter what, Maric would be gone by then—he had made a promise that he would have to keep—and Duncan would still likely die, Cailan would die, Loghain would became a villain that we all know. _

_I didn't know if I could save Bryce Couslands life, I didn't know if I could save any of the Couslands lifes but I couldn't do nothing, couldn't remain silent, when all I could see is Andra Couslands' bright blue eyes staring at me with innocent that remained me of the children I once called family. _

_I warned him, that sometimes our allies turned out to be our greatest enemies. That you should always have plans on top of plans when it comes to saving the lifes of your family._

_In return to this vague advice and warning, he let the Companions set up shop so to speak in Highever and made me promise one thing—make sure Andra survived whatever came her way. _

_If I saw her in Ostagar, I would make sure she would live through this damn Blight. Not for her father, but for her. She was going to get a shit hand in the future so she needed someone who would give her a chance, I wasn't the right person for that, but I was always good at killing things so I'll kill anything that would attempt to stop her, to kill her, hopefully that will be enough._

* * *

Elion valued loyalty, especially to one's family, so he approved of the young woman that had caught Kiara's attention.

Long dark red hair had been twisted into a crown braid with flowers threaded through them, the flowers were crumpled and petals had fallen as her hair had loosened. Her white dress had been beautiful with detailed lacing and bead work on the bodice before it had been torn and bloodstained, long dark golden fingers were wrapped around the hilt of the stolen sword, a dull gold ring winked from her middle finger. Fierce dark eyes stared unflinching at the approaching guards, her face set as she awaited her fate alone.

"Strong little thing, isn't she?" Kiara muttered with a slight smile of admiration.

"I wouldn't call her little," Elion snorted, eyeing the girl—she was tall for an elf, almost the height on an average human woman.

"Do I have your approval?"

"Let's just get the Flat-ear before those city guards arrest her," Elion grunted as he pushed himself away from the wall they had been leaning against and Kiara smirked at him before she strode towards the guards with all the casual arrogance that she seemed to have naturally.

"You wouldn't be attempting to arrest one of my Companions, now would you?" Kiara called out and eyes turned to her.

Elion almost smirked as the younger of the guards paled and took a step back at the sight of Kiara, he did smirk fully when the human boy actually squeaked as he saw Elion and stumbled back more—ahh, it seemed the stories were still being told.

A relieved look stole across the Elder's face and the young girl stared at them in confused surprise while the older of the guards barely flinched as he meet the gaze of Kiara. Brave, a cut above the rest obviously.

"Isn't she a little young to be a Companion?" He asked with an arched brow and Kiara's smile became sharp as the blades she wielded effortlessly and hid skilfully all over her body.

"We were younger when we started out," she shrugged with ease and stole a glance at the young red head. "I'm surprised that only two of you were sent to take one of my Companions when it's known that I only take the best."

Elion's lip curled as he smelt the piss coming from the younger guard—Shem guards were getting weaker and weaker as the years went by which wasn't surprising considering Cailan wasn't the best King and his Queen seemed to care little for the common folk.

"I didn't know Companions got married," the older of the two continued, a little pale but still firm, suspicious but wavering. Just needed a little push.

"Why wouldn't we?" Kiara asked in return. "But that's not the problem, the problem is that you are attempting to arrest one of my Companions."

"She killed a manor filled with guards and three noble men," he shot back.

"He shouldn't have kidnapped her and her cousin nor should he have raped her young cousin," Kiara's smile was dark and filled with teeth. "Trust me, he was lucky that she got to him before I did. I do so hate rapists."

"Get her out of here within the hour or fuck what privileges you have been given, she'll hang for her crimes." He finally told her gruffly and Kiara nodded.

"Of course,"

They waited till the guards left before Kiara turned to the young elf.

"Well before you go and pack your stuff, what's your name?" she asked with a smirk and the red head blinked once, snapping out of her shock.

"Vala," she told them in easing confusion, appreciation in her gaze. "Vala Tabris."

"Welcome to the Companions Vala," Kiara greeted warmly. "Best go and say your farewells then."

* * *

Vala had rarely ventured outside the relative safety of the Alienage—accept for when she was doing the odd jobs for Slim—and here she was, leaving the safety of its constraining walls for the second time that day; though this time she was aware and this time she may not come back, but at least she wouldn't hang as a murderer.

"You're lucky I was around," the human woman, Kiara, called back as her slender fingers tangled into the scruffy fur of the large hound that kept close to her heels, she had never see such a large hound as he reached the rather tall woman's waist. "Otherwise you'd been making the rounds of the guards before swinging from a rope."

Vala swallowed, she didn't need to really think about what making the rounds were and disgust welled in her stomach. Is that how the last days of her life would have been like? Being tossed around the guards like a whore and raped like they had raped Shianni? How many other elves had she saved from that same fate? Too many, shem-lords were truly immoral when it came to elves.

"Why did you save me?" Vala asked quietly as the other elf, a Dalish named Elion, disappeared from Kiara's side without a word.

No one saved an elf out of the kindness of their hearts, not even the famed Kiara of the Companions.

"You're interesting," Kiara shrugged carelessly and glanced over her shoulder, earthy brown eyes serious as she stared into Vala's dark eyes. "Those men were lucky it wasn't me who had killed them, they wouldn't have been gifted a quick death with me.

Anyway, we needed some fresh blood," she looked away and continued her even strides towards the markets gates. "Hurry up, we're meant to be half-way to Ostagar already."

"Ostagar?" Vala questioned as she lengthened her stride, one hand gripped the strap of her satchel tightly.

"We've been called to arms by the King," Elion's sudden reappearance almost made her jump, his lips were curled back in a half-hearted sneer. "We'll be fighting Darkspawn."

"Too Malika's dismay," Kiara laughed and Vala stared, how was the thought of fighting Darkspawn a laughing matter?

* * *

"How far till we get there, Duncan?" Andra called, a steadying hand keeping Melima on the horse they had bantered from a farmer.

The young Dalish elf had slipped into a deeper and deeper sleep, her once sun-kissed skin was pale and her veins were thick and sickening black. Sweats made her dark hair stick to her thin face, the green of the twisting branches of her tattoo stood out starkly on her face.

"Not too far, my lady," Duncan replied, his firm calm and pace even. "You'll see the ruins soon enough."

Part of her flinched away from the title that he still bestowed on her, it wouldn't be her title much longer when she took on the mantle of the Grey. The title didn't belong to her, not really, it belonged to her mother and the title Lady Cousland died with her on that cold stone floor at the blades of Howe's men. But she didn't let her feelings show on her face, grief wouldn't help Melima get to Ostagar faster and through the Joining.

Melima was a young and tiny thing, with wide green eyes that reminded her too much of Oren. It wasn't that big of a wonder that Andra had spent most of her travel safe-guarding the young elf, someone still needed her and while that was true, Andra couldn't falter nor break.

She was a Cousland, she was to be a Grey Warden, and neither of them faltered, and they did their duty.

* * *

"Slumming with the filth, Princess?"

Sereda breathed deeply through her nose as she heard the mocking tone of the Casteless from behind her and turned, Faren Brosca wasn't a dwarf that Sereda wanted at her back.

She was still struck by his striking red hair, the same burning shade as the lava in Orzammar and it almost reminded her of home. A home that was no longer hers, she almost swallowed at that painful and true thought.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" she asked, she had heard better from the tittering twits that hunted after her brothers and longed for a place in their beds in the hopes birthing their sons.

Faren's grin didn't falter as he stared at her, onyx flat eyes staring at her with distaste. Distain for a title and lifestyle that was no longer hers, it was almost petty but understandable. Her life had been the highest of luxury while his had been the lowest of the low, but if he went back he would rank higher than she would. Kin-slayers are always taken from the stone, no that wasn't true, known and convicted kin-slayers were taken from the stone and that was what she was.

"I could come up with better but why bother?" he shrugged lazily, the borrowed blue tunic creasing with the movement. "It'd be useless to use on a kin-slayer."

Sereda's lips tightened, her hand almost drifting the short sword she had been allowed to take with her down in to the Deep Roads and had refused to give up for something better when she was kitted out by the Wardens. It had saved her life and she owed it some sort of honour, she wouldn't discard it yet.

Killing her older brother wasn't her proudest moment nor was falling into Belen's trap without a hint of knowing something was wrong. He was a smart little bastard, he had played the game well, and she couldn't help but be somewhat impressed.

"I'm sure you have done worse things, Brand," she eyed him and his face almost tightened in anger.

"I never killed any of my kin," Faren denied, an anger in his dark eyes as he stared at her. "So you've done a lot more badly than me, my dear Princess."

* * *

"I don't think our dwarven companions will be getting on anytime soon," Lendanis Surana mentioned casually, warily watching the confrontation between the two dwarves near where the blacksmith had been set up.

The Exiled Princess had spent much time with the blacksmith, helping arm the men that answered the King's call to arms.

Leona Amell glanced up from one of the heavy tomes she had decided was important to bring and watched them for a moment with deep blue eyes.

"The caste system is too deeply ingrained, it seems," Leona noted, brushing back a stray strand of hair with one pale hand.

"Let's hope Duncan splits them up when he gets back," Lendanis declared as she leaned back, basking in the heat of the sun—she hadn't been allowed outside for years and was determined to regain the tan she held when she was a child back and maybe gain some gold to her otherwise colourless locks. "Otherwise we're going to one dwarf down."

Lendanis waited for some sort of chastise from her friend but it never came and glanced up.

"Lee?" she questioned as she followed Leona's gaze to where she watching two dark haired soldiers, a man and a woman that shared the same deep blue eyes. "You know them?"

"No," Leona denied, shaking her head slightly and letting the red hair hide her face as she bent back over her tome. "They just seemed familiar, but I don't know them."

"You sure?" Lendanis asked, peering at the two humans and noticing that some of their features did look familiar but at the same time different.

"I'm sure, Dani," Leona smiled slightly as she looked up at her oldest friend.

* * *

"You know," Malika's voice was forcefully casual and Saya didn't even glance up from where she was sharpening the blade of her staff. "I think I remember telling Kiara that I wasn't going to fight no pissing Darkspawn, or am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong," Ellana answered, grinding elfroot into a paste. They would need all potions and pastes and such for when the fighting started again.

"THEN WHY IN THE NAME OF ALL THE PARAGONS ARE WE HERE?!" she shouted and soldiers, priestess, mages and Templars all looked at the red-faced dwarf for a moment, registered which dwarf was shouting, and went back to what they were doing before.

It wasn't the first time that Malika had voiced that thought, loudly, and it had stopped bothering anyone. She had even made Loghain Mac Tir back off when she went into a long rant about just what Darkspawn were like and what they could do to them so she was in the right to shout and rave like a 'mad-woman' because all this was madness and they should leave it all in the hands of the Wardens.

"The King called," Saya grimaced as she pulled a strand of hair from her head before testing it against the blade.

"Since when has Kiara ever answered a King's call?" Malika snarled.

"There has never been a Blight before," Ellana reminded Malika. "We are all duty-bound to heed the call."

"Some of the lords are claiming that this isn't even a Blight," Malika claimed doubtfully.

Ellana sighed and looked at her dwarf friend;

"Shem lords have forgotten much, they don't have the memory of your people or mine," she began softly. "They have forgotten how to read the signs, they have forgotten their duty. Kiara didn't answer the call of a Shem King, she answered the call of the Wardens. Wardens remember while others have forgotten, what do they say Mal?"

Malika looked away, a shadow of fear gracing her features.

"They say this is a Blight,"

"Then this is a Blight," Saya confirmed as she watched the strand split with satisfaction. "We will fight it."

"Something I never wanted to do," Malika rolled her shoulders before grabbing her axes. "Fucking pissing Blights, why couldn't it have come after I died?"

Ellana watched her stout friend walk off to find someone to spar with.

"She's afraid," Saya noted.

"We should all be," Ellana nodded. "This is a Blight."


	11. Chapter 11

"Look at these lot," Elion muttered as they strode through bustling camp of the King's army. "Either they are too old, too young or too weak to lift their swords."

"Not all of them," Vala disagreed as she eyed the armed soldiers around them. "Only a good dozen."

"A dozen could mean life or death for us all," Elion scorned, fingering a dagger at his belt when some lording sneered at him and his obvious Dalish roots.

That lording was lucky Kiara had convinced him it would be bad idea to gut one of their 'allies' before the battle. Hopefully a Darkspawn would do it for him, he thought with dark amusement and a curl of his lips.

"Now Elion, there is no age too young," Kiara's voice drifted back. "I have been younger when I've killed a man and being old isn't always a bad thing."

Vala stared at the back of the tall human; some of the young lording around them were barely of age and yet this woman claimed to have killed someone before she came to age. Somehow, Vala didn't doubt it and that made her more wary of her supposed saviour.

"I PISS ON YOU!" Came a roaring battle-cry and Kiara and Logan jumped different ways as an axe buried itself into the dirt where they had once been walking.

"Malika," Kiara sighed, resigned and yet amused, and Vala blinked as she stared at the attacker.

Shorn brown locks attempted to creep past eyebrows, dressed in boiled leathers and mail was a dwarven woman with fierce steel eyes and an angry set to her features as she glared up at Kiara.

"I didn't agree to this shit!" 'Malika' snarled as she swung her axe at Kiara who leaned back from the angry swipe.

Logan, the fierce large scruffy dog, didn't even blink as the dwarf continued to attempt to hack at his human and merely blinked his large eyes at the fight before sniffing and padding off.

"He seems to have caught the others' scent," Elion noted and touched her elbow. "Let's leave them to it."

"Okay…." Vala trailed off and followed the other elf further into the camp, leaving Malika to bellow and Kiara to laugh as she dodged from each blow or blocked one with one of her drawn blades. "Will they be alright?"

"They may give each other a new scar but that's it," Elion told her, completely unconcerned with what could be a deadly fight behind them. "Malika is angry that Kiara agreed to come and fight the Blight, her house used to be very involved in fighting Darkspawn when they still lived under the stone."

"This really is a Blight then?" Vala asked, her hand drifting to the stolen sword that Kiara had made sure she kept—she remembered the look in those dark eyes as the human pressed the sword into her hands and said that she had earned the right to wield that sword.

"If you listen to the Shem lords, then no it's not," Elion said with quiet scorn. "But the Wardens say this in a Blight and we believe them."

"Most people would run from a Blight," Vala commented, resigned to her fate.

This wasn't what she had been expecting the morn of her wedding day, guess the Maker had another plan for her which wasn't being stuck in a loveless marriage with a man she would never desire because of his gender and not his character.

"We're not most people," Elion gave her a sharp smirk.

"Elion!" A female voice cried out in elation before the owner of said voice barrelled into his chest, wrapping slender strong arms around his neck.

Loose golden locks, the same colour as Elion's own locks tied back into hunting braids, tumbled down a leather covered back and smelt strongly of Elfroot, one tanned hand tangled into Elion's braided locks and bent his head slightly so they could touch foreheads.

It was striking to Vala how alike the two Dalish elves looked, though the woman had a softer cast to her face then Elion.

"I'm here," Elion's voice was remarkably soft, a reassertions that made tension seep from the woman's shoulders as she closed her golden eyes.

"Who is this?" A growling female voice made Vala turn away from the obvious siblings and it took everything in her power not to take a step back at the towering woman inspecting her with narrowed ashy eyes, one of her clawed light purple hands was resting on Logan's head.

She had heard the tales of the Companions—who hadn't?—and had known about the Qunari, Saya, but she hadn't realised just how tall the Qunari was. Vala had always been considered tall, for an elf anyway, and hadn't ever really felt small but she did in that moment as she stared up at the Qunari.

"Vala, Kiara recruited her," Elion explained, standing still as his sister inspected him for any changes since they last saw each other.

"I see," she gave Vala one inspecting glance before turning back to the little camp that the Companions had set up and sat on one log before the fire.

Logan rested his large head on her knee and the Qunari stroked his scruffy fur as Vala let out a small breathe, she had survived a test and she knew it.

* * *

_Malika was passionate about everything, she was passionate in anger, in love, in sadness, and I loved that about her. Malika never tried to hide anything, she was open and free and honest and I had always been impressed with people like that. _

_It didn't bother me that she came at me, her axes drawn, with fear and anger warring in her eyes because she needed some sort of outlet. She was a Cadash, she had grown up on stories of Darkspawn and the horror they unleashed and they were her greatest fear, yet here she was at Ostagar with me despite that._

_And by all the gods, I loved her dearly for that._

* * *

"How did you even reach her face?" Ellana demanded, her voice hard but hands gentle as she wiped away the dirt and blood from the left half of Kiara's face so she could properly see the large gash curving up Kiara's cheek.

"Knocked her on her ass," Malika answered, bloodstained teeth bared in a strained grin as Elion used his thumbs to put her nose back in place.

"You do remember we could be called to battle at any moment, right?" Ellana clicked her tongue as her hand glowed and helped seal the weeping gash, Kiara didn't even wince at the tingling and strange feeling.

"She deser—OUCH!" Malika jerked away from Elion, hands coming up to cup her nose and Elion smirked, bloodstained hands still held in the air.

"Oops," his smirk threatened to be turned into a grin. "Did that hurt?"

"Of course it did you piss-haired elf," Malika hissed, tears of pain coming to her eyes as she gingerly poked at her nose. "You did that on purpose."

Elion shrugged easily and leaned back when Malika gave an angry swipe.

"You'll get used to this,"

Vala almost jumped as Saya suddenly spoke to her while the Qunari handed Kiara a water skin.

"Thanks, Saya," Kiara quirked a quick smile about to take a drink but Ellana swiped it and pushed some crushed elfroot into the skin and shook it before handing it back to the human. "Thanks Ella."

Without further ado, she threw her head back and took a long pull of the skin.

Vala grimaced, she had never liked the bitter taste of elfroot.

"Does this happen often?" Vala asked and Ellana scowled.

"Yes," she moved across the small camp to check Malika's wounds and to encourage the healing with her magic like she had done with Kiara. "Both of them are terrible when left alone."

"Half the shit I've got into was because of her," Kiara jerked a thumb at the wriggling dwarf in Ellana's grip who snorted making more blood seep from her nose.

"Half the shit _we've_ got into is because of _her_," she returned as Ellana frowned and wiped away the fresh blood from Malika's nose.

"Stop that," Ellana admonished making Malika scowl and Vala laughed.

She just catch sight of the pleased smile that curled Kiara's lips before Logan leaned into her face and licked the healing gash with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his big size.

This could be her home, Vala thought to herself and almost found herself looking forward to the future—whatever future they had during and after this Blight.

* * *

Faren felt like a little kid again, when he would sneak ale from his comatose mother and sell it to other casteless that didn't have a hovel to call home just so he could have enough to treat Rica to a sweet cake that the commoners and nobles hoarded to themselves, whenever he sat under the sky,

By his ancestors, he had never thought it was so big. He found himself often staring up at the vastness of sky, it seemed to have no end or beginning, not like the ceilings of Orzammar, and it changed so much; clouds drifted, light changed and actual water fell sometimes without warning and made his red hair stick to his face.

The Princess didn't seem to embrace the sudden freedom they were given as he did, so stuck was she with her noble proud.

The blade she found in the Deeproads was so stained with the black of Darkspawn blood that it would never be clean and would poison anyone who got the slightest scratch with the Blight, Duncan had her get some other blades from the smithy when they had arrived in Ostagar before he had taken off, looking for more recruits.

Perhaps the Wardens were getting their weapons free or perhaps they were paying for them, Faren didn't know and the Princess didn't ask, she banter work for blades and had traded her bloodstained crown for a blacksmith's hammer.

It had been amusing the first few days, watching as she laboured like so many of his kin had to do for a single copper when she had been born with a golden spoon in her mouth. Her golden hair, once beautifully braided with ribbons and beads, had been thrown up in a simple horsetail—no more braids speaking of honour, strength and battle or silver beads etched with tiny scenes of battle—and stuck to her sweaty skin—Faren would be willing to bet one of his new daggers that that was the most she had sweated outside of sparring.

Faren had quickly grown bored of it and got more blades and such his own way, he gambled and cheated them out of the hands of the soldiers and Wardens around them.

The only one he hadn't been able to cheat was that blasted dwarven woman with the Companions, her sharp steel eyes had caught all his tricks and she was a keen skilled gambler, she also held her ale better than anyone Faren had seen before.

He couldn't help but to respect her a little, enough that he didn't attempt to steal from her when they retired back to her tent for some 'tie-breakers'. He wouldn't even have attempted anyway, he had seen that Qunari behead a Darkspawn and freeze another in one move, he wasn't going to risk angering the giant by stealing from her companion.

The tall and towering trees of the Wilds blocked out most of the sky, fog curled around the giant roots of the sentential trees and there was a dampness to the air that sat almost heavily on your chest, but it still the topside world and still spoke of freedom to him.

It was his watch for the night, though the little lady sat propped up against one of trees they had camped under with the light of the fire reflecting in her eyes.

She and the new elf had been waiting with Duncan when Alistair had round up all the recruits—he was a nice guy for a human, but absolutely pants at gambling—and the blood stains on her steel armour and the almost hollow look in her blue eyes told him all he needed to know about her.

The knight may have bowed and called her 'Lady', but Faren would never demean her by calling her that title. She was a woman that had lived through her worse nightmare and hadn't faltered, she had his respect for that and he was more willing to listen to her then the Princess as they travelled through the Wilds even if Alistair was meant to be leading—skilled fighter he may be, the man wasn't a leader in any way and that seemed to be his choice.

The new elf, Melima, hadn't strayed far from the human, Andra, though she scowled and muttered about Shem whenever the other humans drew close to her. He guessed they had bonded as they travelled, especially if Melima was half as sick then as she was now. She laid curled up next to Andra, the human's hand resting protectively on her black veined arm.

Whatever went into the Joining ritual, it better cure the Blight or Melima would soon be a mindless ghoul or dead. And Faren didn't want to see how Andra would take her death, the human smelt enough of death already.


	12. Chapter 12

_**In Peace, Vigilance. In War, Victory. In Death, Sacrifice.**_

* * *

Duncan hated the nights; when the dreams would come with the creeping whispers of the Darkspawn and the song that called him to join their endless march. It seemed so much more real that night as he waited for Alistair to bring back the recruits.

So he left the tent he had set up, escaped from the clotting air between those cloth walls.

"You missed the after-supper show," he heard her before he caught sight of her, rubbing the head of Andra Cousland's beloved war hound, Elethea, and staring into the burning embers the great fire he had built. "They caught a thief but called him deserter."

"Kiara," he greeted, deciding to settle beside her. "May I?" he gestured to the skin that he knew didn't contain water.

"Knock yourself out," she passed it over, her dark gaze focused on the burning embers.

"You're not going to fight, are you?" he asked, the wine tasting tart on his tongue.

"Oh, I'll fight," she reassured him with a quirk of her lips.

"You'll fight for Alistair," he stated as she took back the skin, he had known since he saw her Companions setting up camp—had seen it in the respect that Kiara had shown Alistair before she and Elion had taken off for Denerim.

She had once told Maric that he wasn't her king, it seemed that his son was her king.

"It's going to be a slaughter," she stated back before slugging some of the wine back, uncaring of the drops that escaped and trailed down her chin, there was a white scar curving up her chin that hadn't been there when they had first met years ago. "I'm not sending mine to fight a hopeless fight and die. Calian is too in love with tales long told and doesn't pay attention due to the Wardens when it comes to their warnings and thus his men will die."

"But you do?" he questioned as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she quirked another smile, fire light making her eyes look like a volcano. "I will save your recruits, and I will save Alistair and make sure he get his father's seat."

"You going to leave him to die," he stated and she wasn't the least bit confused, she knew he was referring to.

"Yes," she said simply, not flinching from the cold hard truth that she was letting a king die. "I know many things Duncan, some good, some bad, some useful, some useless. Once I ignored all I knew and let things happen, I was a coward then. Another time I embraced what I knew and fucked up with what was meant to be, I was naïve then. This time? I'm letting some things come to pass and helping other things happen when needed."

"And you think that is wise?" he asked her and she laughed.

"Tis not about what is wise," she shook her head, a bitter smile on her lips. "It isn't even about what is best or right, it is what it is and that is how it should be." She looked at him, volcanic eyes gazing at him with a fierceness. "I am a stranger in these lands, my presence causes ripples, I have no right to choose what should happen and what will happen, but I am human and we love to meddle with fate. I've been her bitch long enough to know that you can't stop everything without it blowing up in your face afterwards. I'll do my bit, I'll get involved and lend a helping hand, but I will not cross fate when it comes to certain things."

"Very well," Duncan nodded gravely and she scoffed.

"I'm not looking for approval," she tossed her hair back and pushed Elethea's head on her lap so she could stand up. "Goodbye Duncan."

"Goodbye Kiara," he reached and grabbed her arm, strong muscles tensed as she looked down at him. "Take care of him."

Her features softened and she nodded;

"I will," she vowed and Duncan let her go.

His first and perhaps last proper goodbye, he realised and wondered idly if she would shed a tear for him when he was gone.

* * *

"We're going to be slaughtered," Malika announced, her voice blank as she gripped her twin axes in her hands, staring at the approaching fog.

"We'll slaughter them back," Elion replied, an unsettling grin on his face as he dipped his arrow heads in poison—if his arrows accidently hit some annoying lording or human that had disrespected him before? Well, this was war and it was ever so confusing so it wasn't his fault.

"We're not going to be slaughtered," Kiara's voice was firm and unyielding in a way that pulled Malika away from the approaching horde—by her Paragon, she could almost feel their taint in the air—and realised that the human wasn't even looking towards the horde, her dark eyes were scanning the amassed army and glancing up at the Tower of the Ishal were a small select group of the new Wardens were meant to light a beacon for Loghain's army to join. "We're going to make sure the new recruits survive this slaughter and can end this Blight."

"We're not helping them," Vala realised before Malika; her red hair tucked under a studded leather helmet, dressed in new boiled leather and mail armour, and two swords in her hands—she looked like a Companion, minus the earrings.

"We're running away," Elion corrected in an outraged hiss, golden eyes glaring at Kiara—she didn't even flinch as she met his heated gaze with her cool one.

"Who fucking cares?" Malika hissed back, puffing up her chest and glaring back at Elion from under her own helmet. "As long as we live to piss another day, I'm happy."

"You have a plan?" Saya prompted, her ashy eyes scanning the human army that were luckily keeping a wide berth from them and thus hadn't overheard them.

"Ostagar is about to become a slaughter," Kiara's tone was confident, there was no doubt, and Vala almost swallowed harshly. "We're going to make sure recruits survive so they can end this Blight."

"Why not the older Wardens?" Vala dared to ask and Kiara's glance at her wasn't cutting or dismissive, it almost seemed like she approved that Vala questioned her.

"They are mostly at the frontlines, too close to the horde for me to feel comfortable sending any of you to get them," Kiara told her simply and Vala nodded.

"And I pissing love you for that," Malika declared roughly and Kiara smiled slightly for a brief moment, one gloved hand briefly laying itself on the dwarf's shoulder before returning to the handle of her sword.

"Vala, I want you to head back to the healers," Kiara ordered. "Get Ella and that Amell mage and head to the Wilds, Logan will meet you there and lead you to safety. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Vala nodded slightly, shifting her feet so she was ready to move—she had been wondering where the large hound had gone too—and Kiara's hand wrapped around her arm like steel.

"Don't let any of Mac Tir's men see you," Kiara's eyes were hard and serious and Vala nodded back, equally serious which made the human relax some and let her go.

"Malika, Saya," the Qunari seemed to stand even taller under Kiara's eyes and Malika stared at her with total trust. "I want you two to go to the Tower; Cousland and Alistair must be saved."

"What about the two elves?" Vala asked while Malika and Saya both nodded without question.

"Save them if you can," Kiara told them, Elion's lips tightened. "But Cousland and Alistair must be saved."

"Understood," Saya nodded as Malika turned towards the Tower.

"See you in the Wilds?" Malika asked and Kiara nodded making the dwarf nod back—trusting that they would all survive the slaughter Ostagar was about to become.

"Elion and I will attempt to find the dwarves," Kiara stared at Elion. "If that's okay with you?"

Elion's features were tight, there was obviously something he wanted to say but he didn't and simply nodded in agreement.

"FOR FERELDEN!" came the echoing shout of King Calian, the army charged and the Companions parted.

* * *

"Want me to slit your throat?" Faren offered as he buried his dagger into the chest of the Darkspawn that they were fighting, his sword swiping across its rotting throat.

"I'm fine," Sereda grunted, bashing one's head in with her shield and stabbing it through the chest, pulling it out with one firm tug and immediately thrusting the sword into another's guts. "Thanks."

They had meant to be waiting for the second army to attack to join the battle, but had decided to offer their help when they saw the Tower was being surrounded and overwhelmed.

They had already seen the beacon group head into the tower and was now a two person army keeping the other Darkspawn from entering the tower.

"You sure?" Faren grunted as a warm spurt of black blood covered him. "I hear bad things happen to pretty women in the hands of Darkspawn."

"You think I'm pretty?" Sereda barred her teeth as she pushed one back. "How sweet."

Faren barked out a laugh, slashing at the Darkspawn in front of him, only for it to go slipping down on the mud with an arrow sticking out of his throat.

A quick decisive thrust of a steel blade ended its gurgling and Faren looked up as lightening flashed.

Kiara of the Companions stood tall before him, dark hair plastered to her face under her helmet, a long sword in one hand and a short sword in the other. She was covered in boiled leather and tarnished mail, not letting a hint of black blood touch her bare skin—smart human.

"You want to live?" she asked him, long sword lashing backwards without her looking and burying itself deep in the guts of the Darkspawn creeping up behind her, an arrow to its throat from somewhere finished it.

"Oh fuck yes," he answered without thought and she nodded.

"Stay close then," she twisted, short sword separating a head from its body. "It's about to get messy."

"It's not already?" he barked out a laugh and the glance she shot him was amused as she began to kill the Darkspawn with the ease of someone used to killing—and killing a lot at that.

The unanswered fire of the beacon burnt brightly as the horns sounded and Darkspawn hollered their victory.

* * *

Someone was tenderly wiping a damp cloth across her skin was the first thing that she registered as she clawed to consciousness and struggled to one her eyes.

"You're awake," Leona's quiet voice was filled with relief as Andra's blue eyes focused on her fair face above her, a curtain of thick red hair attempted to hide the rest of the world from Andra's view.

"Wha-?" Andra croaked as she attempted to sit up and Leona shushed her, reaching behind her for a smooth wooden cup filled with elfroot laced water.

"Tis about time you opened your eyes," the manner of speaking clued her in on who was spoken before Leona helped her sit up further on the bed that she had been laying on.

Morrigan, a Witch of the Wilds, stood in front of a boiling caldron of what smelt like stew. Ebony black hair twisted up and back as stray strands framed her angular features, golden eyes shadowed by deep purple glanced at her over one bare slim shoulder.

"Your companions were getting concerned for you," Morrigan continued, giving the stew an idle stir. "Especially the whiny one."

The disdain was very obvious in Morrigan's tone and Andra assumed from that distain that the 'whiny one' was Alistair—they had mixed as well as oil and water when they had their brief meeting in the Wilds earlier.

Andra ignored the two mages as she took stock of her body; her long brown hair had been shorn and there was a bandage fixed to the back of her head, more bandages wrapped around her torso and she could feel the slimy coolness of a poultice against her upper torso.

"We weren't sure how badly you had hit your head," Leona mentioned, a slim hand brushing away Andra's questing fingers. "We had to cut your hair to assess the damage, I'm sorry."

"Tis only hair," Morrigan scoffed as she added some type of herb to the stew. "It will grow back. You should be more worried that the blow didn't knock anything important loose."

"Where's my armour?" Andra interrupted as she stared down at the boiled leather and mail armour that had been laid out over a chest at the end of her bed where her steel armour should be.

"Kiara, rightfully, decided to melt down your Darkspawn tainted metal down for arrow heads," Morrigan told her, a certain tone to her voice that just dared her to argue against Kiara's choice.

Normally Andra would have but she was still caught on the name that the witch had mentioned.

"Kiara? Kiara of the Companions is here?" Andra demanded watching as Morrigan's slim shoulders tensed and her stirring stilled.

"You know Kiara?" there was an odd tightness to Morrigan's voice as she questioned her, but Andra ignored it.

"Since I was young," Andra nodded and Morrigan's nails bit into the wood of her ladle.

"All this time," she hissed more to herself than to either of the Wardens, her darkly stained lips curling in anger before she lapsed into an angry silence.

"The Companions saved us," Leona told Andra softly, hands reaching for the new armour since it was obvious that Andra wasn't going to rest any longer. "Morrigan's Mother saved you and Alistair, but the Companions saved the rest of us."

It was only then that Andra noticed that Leona was no longer dressed in the heavy cloth robes, leather and mail armour combo of the Warden Mages and was dressed in the same type of armour that she was helping Andra into.

Leather breeches, metal reinforced leather boots, a mail vest peeked out from under the leather cuirass and thick cloth tunic that she was wearing, worn long fingerless gloves. A cuff of Warden blue material had been tied around her right bicep—something that Leona added to Andra's own outfit.

"We are Wardens," Leona declared strongly in her soft voice when she caught Andra's curious glance at it. "We mustn't forget that."

Those words alone told Andra that she had missed something while she had been 'sleeping'.

"Mother wants to talk to you," Morrigan finally spoke up as Andra tied the sheath of her family's sword to her waist and grabbed the Cousland Shield.

"Thank you for helping us," Andra told her as she moved to the door of the hovel, Leona hovering at her side, and Morrigan turned, a startled look crossed her features as she stared at the noble.

"Mother and your healer did most of the work, I did little," Morrigan almost seemed embarrassed. "Kiara and her Companions are the only reason your healer and the others survived."

"I still thank you for the aid you've given," Andra smiled, the smile that her mother had taught her to show her appreciations—warm yet detached, enough emotion to be real but distance and fake enough not to give the wrong impression—and Morrigan looked away, embarrassed, and Andra's smile became just that more real before she left the house with Leona at her side.

* * *

_And thus the story of the Warden began, a different than it would have without my input and with more chance of success. Now if only people would stop shouting at me and women stop slapping me, I'd be grand. _


	13. Chapter 13

The area in front of Morrigan's home was obviously split into two camps; her fellow Wardens had set up tents made out of fur on the grass closer to the house and on the ridge that overlooked the river that circled most of the house, while the Companions had set up closer to the small path that led back to the Wilds and also had tents made out of fur.

Andra knew that the tents were most likely loaned to her Wardens by the Companions, none of them had bothered to pack up camp before they had gone to war.

Alistair was standing close to the river, looking towards where Ostagar was, with Morrigan's mother close beside him; she was staring right at Andra, her arms folded across her chest.

A bark made Andra look just as Elethea bounded up to her.

"Elethea," she sighed in relief, patting her hound's head—she hadn't lost the last link to her family.

Leona smiled before brushing passed her and heading to where Lendanis was sat outside a tent, the elf smiled at her friend before glancing almost warily at Alistair and where the Companions were set up.

Yes, something had definitely happened while she was out of it, she noted grimly. Something involving Alistair and Kiara and her Companions.

"See? Your fellow Warden is safe and sound," Morrigan's mother said and Alistair turned, relief clear on his face as he took in Andra walking towards him.

"You're alive, Maker, I thought…" he trailed off, his brown eyes staring at her and Andra felt a hint of warmth in her chest at his obvious honest concern and relief—a warmth she didn't think she would feel again.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "Thanks to Morrigan's mother."

"Who is standing right here," said Witch interrupted.

"Yes, thank you, but you've never told us your name," Alistair stammered as he looked away from Andra and the aged Witch smiled.

"Names are pretty things, but mostly useless," she told them. "But you can call me Flemeth."

Andra almost took a step back as she stared at Flemeth; she had heard the tales of Flemeth, what Cousland hadn't? In a way, they owed her their rise to nobility.

"Flemeth?" Alistair questioned, also staring at Flemeth. "Like in the stories?"

Flemeth's smile was quick and ancient; "Whoever told you they were just stories?"

"If you're really Flemeth from the tales," Alistair began and Andra nudged him—she didn't want him to accidently insult the witch that saved them.

Flemeth laughed, a cackle that sent chills down Andra's spine.

"Thank you for saving us," Andra told her and Flemeth looked at her with golden eyes.

"Now that's manners," Flemeth grinned a little. "You are most welcome."

"Not to sound ungrateful or anything," Alistair began again, his gaze narrowed slightly on Flemeth. "But why did you save us?"

"This is a Blight, is it not?" Flemeth gave him a look that said clearly that she was questioning his intelligence—Alistair didn't even bristle in offense which told Andra that this wasn't the first time. "We couldn't have all the Wardens in Ferelden dying at once, not when you have to unite the land and defeat the Blight."

"The land isn't exactly united thanks to Loghain," Alistair frowned and Andra looked at him in confusion.

"What's happened?" she almost demanded and Alistair paled as he looked at her.

"You don't know," he realised and then sighed. "Loghain quit the battlefield, the King and the other Wardens are dead, Loghain betrayed the King."

* * *

**The world was going to hell, or at least Ferelden was. Almost a whole noble family—a Teynir's family—had been slaughtered by an Arl, the other Teynir had betrayed a King, almost a whole Order of Grey Wardens had been slaughtered, thousands of men and women were dead and rotting on the ground, people were fleeing for their lives and a group of seven recruits were faced with stopping a Blight on their own. **

**Why did she ever want to be a Grey Warden again?**

* * *

"Think she's going to slap you too when she finds out what you did at Ostagar?" Malika asked Kiara, glancing down at the human under her as Kiara grunted with effort as she pushed both her weight and Malika's up with just her hands and lowering them back down—she had been doing it for most of the morning and sweat was making her cotton and leather clothes stick to her.

"I hope so," Elion muttered, gloved hands carefully attaching the newly made arrow heads to his arrow shafts.

"Fuck you," Kiara gritted out, turning her head to glare at the elf letting Malika see the yellowing bruise that marred Kiara's left cheek. "We get it, you're pissed at me."

"If I was pissed at you," Elion began pleasantly. "You'd have more than a new bruise to show off, you'd have a nice long new scar. I'm simply mad at you."

"Elion," Ellana sighed, hands busy making poultice and potions—all were needed if Kiara was serious about helping the Wardens stop the Blight, which Malika knew that she sadly was. "Let it go."

Elion just sniffed as he focused on his arrows.

"I don't know why you're so mad," Malika said with a shrug, ignoring Ellana's warning look. "We're still alive so pissing let it go."

"We deserted the battleground after giving our word because it was getting a bit challenging," Elion shot back, a curl of his lips.

"That's not pissing true and you damn well know it!" Malika near-shouted making Saya sigh tiredly as she patted Logan. "If that was true, we'd have never gone there in the first place. That's not the reason you're pissed and we all know it!"

"We gave our word," Elion repeated, finally getting to why he was upset. "We deserted the battlefield, we left them to die."

"Since when have you cared about shem?" Malika snarled, leaning forward slightly as she glared. "This is just because of your pissed up version of honour."

Elion snarled and Kiara finally snapped, pushing herself up to her feet—ignoring Malika's squeal as she tumbled to the ground—and twisted to glare at Elion.

"I've fucking had enough," she declared strongly, angrily. "I'm fucking sorry that I decided that your lives were more important that some strangers. I'm sorry that I decided to ignore something like honour to make sure we all lived through it. I'm sorry I actually listened to the Wardens unlike Calian—a king who was still too much of a boy, a king that was too busy trying to gain his own legend and such like his father did—and fucking realise that Ostagar was about to become a slaughter,"

She spun to the Wardens and glared at Alistair;

"I'm sorry that I don't have the same morals as you, but get the fuck off your high horse. If I hadn't done what I had, you and Andra would be alone to stop the bloody Blight. I'm fucking sorry that I decided saving five people was more important than dying in an attempt save your King and Duncan. I'm sorry that Duncan's dead, he was a nice guy and I actually liked him but he was almost forty so don't attempt to act like that wasn't going to happen soon anyway. At least he died here on the battlefield instead of the Deep Roads. I'm sorry that Loghain betrayed your king but I'm not his fucking keeper and I don't even like the guy and thus stayed away from him so you can't blame me for that. I'm sorry that Calian is dead, he was naïve and young but he was still a relatively good king and it's sad that he's dead.

But fuck it all, I would do that all again without a regret."

* * *

Kiara glared at them all with eyes as black as scorched earth, her gaze pierced the blue eyes of the noble daughter that Saya remembered her teaching how to throw a dagger with deadly aim, the brown gaze of the Warden who was still very much a Templar, the Exiled Princess, the base born thief, the fiery mage, the quiet healer, and the Dalish hunter.

The Healer looked away, Saya remembered that she had been appalled at the slap that the Exiled Princess levelled on Kiara's seated form after the Templar had shouted at her—of course that was after that dark haired mage slapped her. Said Princess stared back defiantly, her blue eyes as hard as sapphires while the thief nodded his head, dark eyes respectful as the dwarf stared back at the human—he at least hadn't attempt to kick up a fuss when Kiara gave him a chance to live to see another day.

The Dalish watched, her dark eyes thoughtful as she watched. The fiery mage merely gazed down at the Healer, fully aware that she would have been left for dead if Kiara hadn't chosen to 'desert'.

Kiara didn't even glance at the aged mage—who had seemed pleased when she saw Kiara and had greeted her almost warmly—before turning her hard gaze to her own companions.

Vala was young, new to the Companions, but she wasn't an idealised fool. She came from an Alienage after all, and knew everything wasn't always as clear and cut as some thought. She respected Kiara's decision, she hadn't been pleased when she realised that Kiara wasn't going to help most of the army but she respected her decision—for that Saya approved of the new recruit and would watch over her.

Kiara didn't have to meet the gaze of Ellana, Saya or Malika—they understood and stood by her—and just met the gaze of Elion.

Burning golden eyes met flat and hard dark eyes, it was a battle of wills, a battle of honour against survival. In the end, survival won and Elion turned back to his arrows.

Kiara nodded to herself, her cold features melting back to her normally mild-set ones, and spun on her heel. She grabbed her own bow and sheath of arrows and moved towards the trees of the Wilds with the sure-footedness of a doe.

Logan stretched, a yawn exposing his sharp teeth, before he trotted after his Mistress.

Malika finally righted herself and before Elion could even look up, her fist landed heavily on the top of his head.

"Piss off Eli," Malika snarled as she moved back, glaring with steel eyes. "You ever push her like that again, I'll put you on your ass and have Saya to cool you off."

Saya could feel gazes on her and blew out a breath of chilling frost as a show of skill which always surprised and frightened people. The little they knew about Saarebas, showed that they didn't have much control or knowledge, so her doing that had always frightened and impressed them.

It was what Kiara called a party-trick, it was a useless trick that couldn't do anything but impress most shallow creatures—for that it was useful.

Saya knew that a decade ago, she was just like they thought but Kiara had changed all of that. And for that and more, Saya owed Kiara everything.

Elion snarled but didn't say anything back, Saya knew that wasn't the end of it and shared a glance with Ellana. They would have to be watchful when it came to the more passionate members of their group—this wasn't the first fight they got into and it wouldn't be the last, but it was the first time that Kiara had been involved and that would flare Malika's more easily.

"At least we'll not get hungry any time soon," the dark haired mage, Morrigan, commented as she strode from where she had been half hidden in the doorway to her mother. "I fear there will not be many if any animals left in the Wilds with Kiara in that mood."

"Best they find a quick death on the other end of Kiara's bow then a lingering death because of the Blight," the aged mage, Flemeth apparently (a name which made Elion keep his distance, Ellana gasp and watch her wearily and the Dalish also weary and watchful), said. "It will save you bantering for food as well, it'll be going scarce now the Blight is creeping across the land."

"They are leaving us then?" Morrigan asked, unable to hide all the delight in her voice as she glanced at Alistair—Mages and Templars mixed as well as oil and water or oil and fire according to Kiara.

"Yes," Flemeth nodded with Andra echoing her nod—the young noble was as stubborn as ever, Saya noted. "And you'll be going with them."

"Such a shame—what?" Morrigan trailed off as she realised what her mother had just said and she wasn't the only ones that turned to the aged witch with shocked and incredulous eyes.

"You heard me, Girl," Flemeth's voice was firm.

* * *

_Honour. What does it mean? It synonyms with words like respect, admiration, nobility and other such things. Honour is the morals that people place on themselves, honour is the standard they hold themselves._

_Honour had no place when it came to survival, morals and humanities standards meant little when you fight to survive. The Hunger Games showed that, kids were thrown into an arena and only thought about surviving—accept for Peeta but he was always different. _

_Honour was something I discarded when I decided I was going to survive in that little glass and metal cell, honour was something that I ignored when I put my all into learning to fight and kill with Bucky. Honour was something that Steve had, that Charles had._

_People like me? Honour was a nice thing to think about and maybe inspire to, but it shackled you when you had to survive. _

_That didn't mean I was completely without standards or honour, but I put that low on the list when it came to surviving._


	14. Chapter 14

It didn't surprise Morrigan when Kiara came back, a string of rabbits and pheasants hanging from her waist, a doe was thrown over one shoulder and that mutt of hers was dragging a wolf.

"Good hunting I see," Morrigan commented as she walked over to the taller woman, her hands automatically going for the string of rabbits and pheasants.

"The best," Kiara confirmed with a quirk of her mouth and it was almost like nothing had changed—how many times had they had the same conversation with Kiara ladled in fresh meat after she disappeared off hunting in the Wilds?

"Ooh wolf," the damn dwarf, Morrigan shot a glare as the dark haired dwarf inspected the wolf. "Think you can make me a nice cloak out of this, Ki?"

But of course everything had changed, she had left and hadn't returned till now—she had only returned because of the Blight and not for her promise—and Morrigan wasn't a little girl anymore, believing in foolish promises that she should have known would have never been kept.

Morrigan ignored the look that crossed Kiara's face as she abruptly removed the string and moved swiftly to the hovel, best she cook it before they pack up and leave for Lothering.

* * *

**Flemeth had lived a long life, a life that wasn't going to be cut short anytime soon, and she had watched mankind grow, they were sadly predictable and so she had learnt to appreciate things that surprised her. **

**Kiara, the woman-child, a woman who had seen more than a fraction of the years that Flemeth herself had—something hardly anyone else could claim—and would probably see more, was just one of those surprises. **

**A woman that got a chance to have a redo of her life, any mistakes she made in a past life she knew she could correct in her next. Some would call that a blessing, but not Flemeth. **

**Kiara had heart, a heart that she let people into and she cared deeply—too deeply—and with each life and death, more scars appear on that heart of hers as she loses another loved one. **

**Sometimes, Flemeth pitied her, but she pitied her Morrigan more. Morrigan who had already given her young heart to Kiara, Morrigan who would one day die and never have the woman she loved by her side in the Fade. **

**Kiara would not know the peace of death for a long time, if ever, and Morrigan would drift in the Fade without her love. Flemeth personally hoped that Morrigan fell for one of the Wardens and gave up her naïve and innocent love for Kiara, it would only hurt her dear daughter in the end.**

* * *

"I don't like her," Malika declared firmly and yet quietly, glancing over to Kiara making sure she hadn't overheard. "I think we should leave her the first chance we get."

"Kiara wouldn't be happy with us if we did," was Saya's only complaint with the plan and Ellana reframed from rolling her eyes or sighing.

"Only we can give Kiara shit," Elion added as he rooted through another crate filled with stuff taken from refugees—Kiara was teaching Vala the fine art of choosing what they could return to their rightful owners and what they would keep for themselves. "I say we wait for Kiara to go hunting then get rid of the bitch."

Malika nodded, a gleeful look on her face; "That's perfect."

The fight the two of them had was forgotten for now, they were united on this front. Which didn't bode well for Morrigan and left Ellana being the voice of reason—a role she was sadly too familiar with.

(It was a full time role really, having to deal with Elion's anger, Kiara's seemingly total lack of regard of her own health and safety, Saya's unfailing loyalty that made her dive into the thick of things with Kiara and Malika's—well she couldn't put it any other way—bouts of complete foolishness—for the sake of the Gods, who actually drank themselves till they were sick and kept going just to win some coin? Malika, that's who.)

"Kiara seems to care about her," she reminded them making a sour look cross Malika's face—she almost sighed, it was almost childish how much Malika disliked Morrigan for that alone. "Need I remind you that there is a Blight raging around us and we need all the aid we can get?"

That at least made Elion pause, a considering look taking over his inked and golden features.

"After the Blight?" he suggested almost hopefully and Malika, still looking sour, nodded shortly and Ellana sighed—it was the best she could do at that moment.

"Kiara," Vala's voice called out and they turned to watch as the young elf came around a stack of crates, a lamb cradled in her arms with a plain ribbon tied around its neck.

"Ooh, we're having lamb tonight," Malika seemed to completely cheer up at that thought and the look that Vala shot the dwarf told everyone that Malika was very much mistaken if she thought Vala was going to let her kill the lamb.

"We're not killing it," Vala's voice had taken on a firm tone that Ellana recognised—it had been the same tone she used when Leona resisted leaving, her blue eyes franticly looking towards the Tower, and the tone that told Ellana that the elf would have no problem carrying the protesting mage away from the horde of Darkspawn if she continued to resist.

"What?! Why not?" Malika demanded with a scowl.

"It's a child's pet," Vala had opened her mouth to answer but Kiara's dry tone cut through and Malika turned to face her friend, the human was sat on one of the many crates and had a bone in her hand that she was almost teasing Logan with as he snapped playfully at it. "We're not into the habit of killing children's pets."

Malika scowled, eyeing the lamb with a hint of longing but didn't attempt to argue, knowing that Kiara wouldn't change her mind. If there was one type of people that she wouldn't harm or cause harm to or let harm befall to and that was children—killing a kid's pet would probably count as harm in Kiara's books.

"Elion, Malika, why don't you head down with Vala into Lothering and find the little girl who owns this?" Kiara suggested and they nodded, Malika with a hint of grumble at wasting good meat.

* * *

Somehow Alistair wasn't surprised to find Kiara sitting on a crate like it was a throne, the road stained red and a stack of bodies placed near the edge as her two mages searched through the crates.

Her large beast of a hound sat on its hunches next to her, its head level with her shoulder showing how massive it was. It was larger than Andra's hound and bulkier then the two other hounds that found their way to them and to the sides of Faren and Leona—apparently the healer hadn't been the only one that had picked the flowers needed to save a hound in the Wilds.

Faren almost immediately made his way to one of the crates, rummaging through it with a thoughtful hum and the large hound looking over his shoulder.

"Anything good?" he called out—Alistair was sure that Faren was the only Warden completely at ease with the Companions and that included Andra who had known the Companions since she was a child.

"Some, not much." Kiara shrugged as she patted her dog, a bone looking as thin as a twig in his mouth. "People have been grabbing what they can before they flee, but we'll have enough coin to pay for some good armour along the way."

"Shouldn't we be returning it to the people it was taken from?" Alistair spoke up, ignoring the scoff from Morrigan, and Kiara just looked at him for a moment, silently judging him with her dark eyes in a way that made him almost bristle.

"Yes, let's walk into a village filled with scared and desperate people and ask who lost their coin so we can return it. There's no chance they'll turn into a mob and rip us apart for said coin and whatever else they can get their hands on," Kiara's voice was dry and cutting and Morrigan laughed in light agreement making him flush.

"Kiara," there was a hint of warning in Andra's voice and Kiara shrugged lazily but heeded it as she leaned back. "Where are Malika, Elion and Vala?"

"Returning a lamb to a child," came Kiara's prompt reply and for a single stunned moment all the Wardens and Morrigan just stared at Kiara.

"Huh….." Alistair glanced at Andra to see her close her bright blue eyes for a moment, as if she was asking the Maker for patience, before she opened them and turned to Ellana.

"Ellana?"

Ellana's smile was amused and filled mild sympathy; "She's not jesting, it seems a lamb was taken from a child as payment into the village."

"They were forcing people to pay for safety?" Alistair asked in disgust and Ellana nodded, a hint of disgust crossing her inked features as she glanced at the bodies and Alistair barely twitched as her magic surged and with a crackle of flames, the bodies burnt.

"Craven sods," Kiara added almost lightly, tugging at the bone in her dog's mouth making the great beast growl lightly and almost playfully, not even a least bit concerned with the flames warming her leather bound feet—in fact she seemed to push her legs closer to the fire as if she was cold. "I was almost too kind to them."

Alistair reframed from snorting as he glanced at the bloodstained and burning bodies—yes, she was very kind indeed.

"Tis not very safe," Morrigan scorned as she walked towards Kiara, the leathers of her skirt brushing against the road. "The Blight will soon claim this little village as well."

Kiara inclined her head in agreement and Alistair shared a frown with Andra, it was unfortunate that Morrigan was right in her assessment.

* * *

They split the goods between them as well as the coin and then they parted into groups; listening for information, bantering goods and perhaps earning some more coin—as the damn dwarf, Malika, had mentioned there was no such thing as too much coin when it came to fighting a war.

Morrigan found herself with Kiara and the hulking mass that was her pet Qunari; the hounds had run off, most likely hunting rabbits and birds according to Kiara. Morrigan wasn't sure how she ended up with the Qunari and Kiara; it could be that she had enough of that fool, Alistair's, suspicious gaze and twitchy hands, or that she wanted to be far away from that cheerful damn dwarf, or she had no desire to step foot in one of those blasted Chantries unless she was unconscious and hog-tied first.

For one of those reasons, she found herself with the Qunari and Kiara as the older woman led them away from the main village and to the farther outskirts.

"I hope there is a reason we're hiking out here," her grip around her staff tightened when the Qunari shot her a look—it seemed Kiara had picked a loyal pet, she sneered to herself.

"I'm interested in meeting a few people," Kiara told her, glancing back with those dark eyes that always hid secrets from Morrigan when they were young and more secrets now they had grown up. "Share some helpful advice and such. It's always good to make new friends."

Morrigan frowned, but held her tongue. She would find out in due time what Kiara meant.

* * *

Morrigan's lips pursed tightly when she noticed Kiara making a beeline to a dark haired young woman and she almost lashed out—she was why they had hiked away from Lothering and the others when a Blight was going on? Some tart most likely.

"Bethany Hawke?" Kiara's voice was light, curious, and curiously calmed most of Morrigan's temper as the young woman looked up, golden amber eyes startled and wary as she stared at Kiara's approaching form.

"How do you know my name?" Bethany Hawke shifted back a step, eyes darting across them then towards the house behind her and Kiara lifted her hands out in a peaceful gesture.

"I heard it from someone," Kiara shrugged casually, her voice calm as Bethany's eyes widened in mild alarm.

"Garrett!" her voice rang out in alarm, in fear, in calling, and Kiara's face reflected a moment of surprise before she was diving on to Morrigan and rolling them away from a hurled fireball coming from the direction of the house.

"Kiara," the Qunari growled out, hands and staff held before her as her wall of ice hissed and spit as it melted from the heat of the fireball it was able to stop.

Kiara didn't seem to have heard her, Morrigan noticed, as the older woman hovered just over her, dark eyes worried as they darted across Morrigan's disgruntled form.

"I'm fine," she gritted out and relief warmed those dark eyes.

"Kiara!"

"We're fine, I'm fine," Kiara told her worried friend as she pushed herself up and held out a hand for Morrigan.

"You travel with an apostate Qunari," a male voice commented, a hint of sardonic amusement, and Morrigan glanced at their would-be attacker. "Now I've seen everything."

He was tall, broad for a mage, with short dark hair, a well-cared for closely cropped beard and the same golden amber eyes as Bethany, who now had fixed herself beside him, had. Siblings then, Morrigan decided, apostate siblings that lived so close to a Chantry—it was truly a wonder that they were still free.

"Hardly," Kiara scoffed, her stance almost relaxed like he hadn't just attacked them though her grip around Morrigan's hand was tight and she had moved in front of the younger woman just a little.

Morrigan almost scowled, she wasn't some helpless babe nor was she a damsel in distress for her to protect.

"Going to hurl another fireball or actually talk with me like a civilised being?" Kiara's voice was cool with just a hint of anger as the Qunari flanked her.

He didn't even look remorseful as he inclined his head and Morrigan almost wanted to shock him for that alone.

"Your sister and brother were alive the last I saw them," that made him look slightly concerned. "They should be here within the hour, you'd best pack everything you'll need now and get ready to flee. The Blight will not miss this village."

"Why are you telling me this?" his amber eyes narrowed as he stared at Kiara and her answering smirk was as sharp and cold as the steel sword at her side.

"It's all out of the kindness of my heart," she told him and he scoffed. "You should watch out for Ogres, they are horribly strong and like smashing things."

"I will," his eyes were still narrowed and Kiara inclined her head as she turned before pausing and casting a look back.

"A pearl of wisdom for you," she began carelessly. "If you ever find yourself having to enter the Deep Roads, I think it's always best to bring a Grey Warden with you."

"Is that out of the kindness of your own heart too?" Garret Hawke asked, that mocking amusement lilting his words, and Kiara smirked again; sharp, cold and deadly as steel.

"No, it's common sense," she told him before throwing a bag of coins towards him, his hand snatched it out of the air and he stared at her in stunned surprised. "That's for a future favour, don't spent it all in of place now."

Kiara's hand was gentle around Morrigan's as she tugged the younger woman with her, Saya keeping in step with her.

"Was there some point to that?" Morrigan hissed and Kiara looked at her, a quirk to her lips.

"There's always a point to what I do,"

Morrigan wasn't impressed.

* * *

There was a dwarf staring at him, considering him like one would a horse. It was irritating, but this whole land was irritating with its cold, its damp and its smell of wet-dog—why these people were so besotted with those animals, he would never understand.

"What are you staring at, Brand?" a distaining feminine voice called out and he observed her through his lashes.

Another dwarf, a female, without a brand burnt on her pale features. Her golden hair was braided out of her fierce features, a contrast to the burning red locks of the first dwarf that attempted to frame his more broad face.

"Hopefully a new recruit," he didn't even bristle at the obvious distain—he was used to it, from her at least.

He refrained from making a face, him a new recruit?

"A prisoner?" the woman repeated, sending a look at him that could have rusted the metal of his cage. "Are you mad, Brand?"

Brand, a nickname, a distasteful one at that, he quickly realised from the slight anger that creased between the dwarf's dark eyes.

"He's been here for a week, without food or water, and is still standing strong," the dwarf explained. "We need that type of strength against the Blight."

That made him open his purple eyes fully and pin them on the dwarf.

"Are you a Grey Warden?" he rasped, his throat dry and scratchy, and the dwarf smirked a little, an approving light in those black eyes.

"Yes," the dwarf, a band of bright and dark blue wrapped around his bicep, nodded.

"There are tales of them being unmatched warriors," he remembered, watching passively as the dwarf's chest swelled with pride. "The tales are obviously over exaggerated."

He was almost amused about how fast the pride went out of him.

"Look," the dwarf said, ignoring the scoff from the woman. "We need all the aid we can get against the Blight, can you do that?"

"Yes," he nodded and the dwarf nodded back, he would answer his Arishok and perhaps find his soul along the way.

"You won't attempt to kill us in our sleep?"

"No,"

"You'll help us defeat this Blight?"

"Yes,"

"Are you ready to be free then?"

He paused, licking his dry lips.

"Yes,"

"Good," skilled hands worked with thin and twisted bits of metal on his lock. "I'm Faren."

"Sten,"

"This is one of the more foolish things, you've probably ever done," the woman stated with certainty and Faren smirked.

* * *

_I had always recruited Sten when I played the game, I didn't like he had killed children but the fact of the matter was that my character needed all the help possible to defeat the Blight and thus he always joined us. _

_So I wasn't surprised that one of the Wardens had decided to spring him from the cage and recruit him into our cause, but I still fingered my dagger when I saw him eyeing Saya—if he attempt to do anything to her, I would spill his guts on the dirt without a blink. _


	15. Chapter 15

The Companions worked well together, Sereda couldn't deny that. When they fought, they fought to each other's strengths; magic was rained down upon the enemy by the Dalish mage while her brother steeled himself beside her, raining arrows dripping with poison, the Cadash was a force to watch as she waded into the thick of things with her twin axes in hand, the human flanking her with steel in her hands and the hulking Qunari in her shadow, the City elf found herself partnered with the mutt and they picked off any that escaped the swiping arms of death that was the three older women.

It truly was something to admire, and Sereda could almost believe the stories she had heard shared; stories of them slaughtering whole bandit troops in one day, of them taking on a whole horde of Dragonlings, of them facing the fury of a platoons from noble houses and coming out the victors.

But that didn't make her forget, didn't make her forget the way that the human—Kiara—came out of nowhere with a flash of steel and an order for her to follow her—who did that human think she was? She had been a warrior, a Princess, and she wasn't one to take orders—as the Darkspawn surged, the horns of retreat sounded and the screams of the dying was heard above the clash of thunder. It didn't make her forget the way those dark eyes narrowed in anger, the way the hilt of that steel sword slammed against her head, the dizzying ringing in her ears as she swayed, the feel of the air being pushed out her lungs as she was thrown carelessly over a leather clad shoulder.

That was somethings that Sereda would never forget—she would never forget her older brother's blazing eyes as he falsely accused her, never forget the feel of his cooling blood on her face, never forget the cold realisation as she stared at her younger brother and his two men, never forget the pained look on her father's face—and that would stop her from ever truly trusting the Companions.

* * *

It was obvious which ones were used to 'roughing it' and which were not, Andra mused as she tried not to grimace openly as she struggled to put up her tent—kindly given to them by the Companions—and glanced around her.

Faren hadn't even bothered to attempt to put up his tent and just laid his thick fur bedroll near the fire pit—close enough to feel the heat but far enough away not to catch fire from stray embers—while Melima had put hers up with ease of years and had disappeared off into the surround woods with Elion to set up traps for the unwary.

Morrigan had set up her tent further away from them with the Companions acting as a buffer between her and the warden's set up—she had been quiet and stayed close to her fire after Kiara handed her a bundle, at the moment the mage was reading a number letters and carefully handling dainty bits of jewellery.

Malika's face had darkened when she saw the little exchange and the dwarf was currently aggressively cutting up more fire wood then they would need for the night, muttering under her breath while Vala walked by with a concerned glance at the older woman, a bucket of fresh water held in her thin yet strong arms.

Saya sat in front her tent with Logan, and kept a watchful eye on Ellana as the elf carefully buckled Sten—Faren's newest addition to their group—in some armour that Bodahn Feddric had in his cart of goods.

(The dwarf had been all for his son and him keeping far away from the Wardens, wary of the danger that traveling them would put him and his son in. That had changed when he had seen Kiara and her Companions, a look of relief stole over his bearded face and he agreed to travel with them and supply them as Kiara had spoken kindly to Bodahn and his rather simple minded son.)

Kiara was currently involved in a conversion with Bodahn, one of her hands absently tangled into Sandals hair as he messed around with one of her blades, glowing light leaking through his thick fingers. She was frowning as she listened to Bodahn talk, his hands moving with his words.

Leliana—Leona's and Lendanis' addition to their group—was helping the two mages with their tents, the chantry robe she had been wearing when they first met had been exchanged for a well-maintained armour of boiled studded leather and mail. The petite red-head was a surprise after a surprise, Andra thought as she vowed to keep a close eye on their Orlesian 'friend'.

Sereda—much like Faren—had decided to forgo the tent and just set up her bedroll near the fire and was currently sharpening and cleaning her blades.

Which just left Alistair, Alistair who had been worryingly quiet since they left Flemeth's house, Alistair whose brown eyes had hardened with a deep anger when they were told that _they_ had been branded as traitors and king slayers by Loghain, Alistair who was still quiet and distance as he put up his tent with slow but confident movements.

Andra could understand some of what he was feeling, he had just lost his family in a way and he was grieving and he was angry that Loghain had spit on the memory of his brothers, on Duncan's memory, by branding them traitors and king slayers.

She glanced down at the mess that was her tent and bit back a sigh, she would only make it worse if she continued to attempt to put it up and walked over to him.

"How are you feeling?" she felt a bit foolish as she asked that stupid question, glancing up as Alistair straightened. "Do you want to talk? About Duncan?"

For a moment, Andra was sure that Alistair was going to refuse, to continue to shut down in his grief and then he sighed, a deep pained sigh that made his broad shoulders drop. He rubbed a wearily hand over his lightly bearded face and looked at her with grieving brown eyes.

"It doesn't seem real, you know?" he began softly, looking away as his absently rubbed a thumb against the band of his rune ring that he wore on his right hand. "The Wardens, Duncan, how could they all just be gone?"

Andra shared his disbelief, she had grown up with stories of the Wardens, how great they were and how skilled they were, she had known Duncan—he had come to Highever ever two years to get more recruits, her father let him have his pick and routinely sent criminals to be straightened out by the Wardens—and had always wanted to be just like him when she grew up. The idea that he was gone, gone just like her family, was just another blow she had to suffer.

Grief was her bread and butter now, she was numb to it. She couldn't afford to break down like she had when Duncan dragged her away from her burning bloodstained home, she had a Blight to fight, a civil war to deal with.

"Duncan was a good man, he died just as he wanted to, fighting against Darkspawn," she said, knowing that was how Duncan would have wanted to go out.

"I knew it was coming," Alistair looked away. "But it still doesn't make it any easier."

* * *

"Two gold coins that they end up together," Malika had obviously gotten over her mood if she was gambling, Kiara mused to herself as she settled next to Saya.

"That's a fool's bet," Elion scoffed. "Everyone can see he follows her like a puppy already."

Logan rested his large head on Kiara's knee and she smiled as she ran her fingers through his fur.

"So the real question is if the young lady returns the Templars fledging feelings," Ellana mused, a soft smile curling her lips as she began to throw together something to eat, and Elion scowled as he looked at Kiara.

"You should have never gotten her those romance books," he said with deep disgust and Kiara almost laughed—Elion had despaired when she had brought back a bunch of romance novels for Ellana to read.

"What did Bodahn have to say?" Saya asked and the air sobered as Vala helped Ellana with dinner.

"Nothing good," Kiara stated grimly though she wasn't surprised, she knew mostly what was heading their way but it still wasn't good. "We'll have to share it with our Warden friends."

"They don't trust us," Vala noted and Kiara smirked.

"_Andra_ trusts us before the Sten and Leliana," she told the young elf. "She'll listen even if the others won't."

"Faren will listen too," Malika nodded firmly.

"Only because he has a soft spot for you," Elion scoffed and Kiara smirked.

"I thought it was a hard-spot he had for her," she stated innocently and Elion laughed as Malika's face started to turn red.

"He has a hard spot that he puts in her soft spot," Elion continued with a wicked grin, and Malika snapped.

"SHUT UP!" she shouted, lunging at Elion, and Kiara laughed as they both fell back and struggled.

A wooden spoon smacked on the back of Kiara's hand and her laughter turned into a yelp as she stared up at a frowning Ellana as Logan licked the injured hand—if he was doing that to sooth her or just to get the gravy off, Kiara didn't know and preferred to believe the first option.

"You are a horrible influence," Ellana said almost sternly, the fond amusement in her golden eyes told a different tale, and Kiara grinned.

"You love me," she said smugly and the elf-maiden rolled her eyes with a hint of a smile.

* * *

_I could have stayed out it, stayed away from Ferelden and its Blight, stayed away from the Wardens and the plight and yet she didn't. Perhaps I was gaining a hero complex._

_Alistair may blame me, Sereda could be a bitch and hate me, but I had saved people's lives. Sereda, Faren, Leona, Lendanis, Melima and Vala was alive because I had changed things, at that was worth it all._

* * *

The Companions were packed up and ready before the Wardens or Morrigan—or mostly ready, Vala thought as she glanced at Kiara.

The sole human of the group was leaning against their Qunari friend, eyes closed and her breathing deep, and Logan had laid his head on her lap, one of her hands tangled in his fur. Saya didn't even blink at being used as a pillow and continued to carefully card through one of the many tomes that Ellana and she shared.

Dawn hadn't yet fully broken, fingertips of light just lightened the horizon, and the air was cool against her bare bits of skin.

Elion kicked more dirt over their fire-pit, a scowl creasing his face as he glanced at their new and now stirring companions. He obviously didn't like lingering so long and Vala couldn't blame him, her skin crawled at the thought of staying in one place for too long—they were travelling with declared traitors and king-slayers after all—and she wanted nothing more than to move, to leave, to head to their next destination and get one step closer to clearing their names and stopping the Blight.

A few others were up; Sten, the Qunari that made Kiara give that horrible smile whenever his gaze lingered too long on Saya or Ellana, Faren and Melima, the only two Wardens up—the dwarven thief was sharpening his many blades and the Dalish elf had disappeared into the surround trees to take down the traps—and Leliana, the ex-lay-sister was knelt next to the fire-pit and was praying.

"For piss sake," Malika grumbled, glaring at the tents. "They do bloody remember that we have the pissing Blight nipping at our heels and who knows who else waiting to take our so-called traitorous heads?"

"They aren't used to this way of life," Ellana muttered back, ever the peace-keeper Vala had quickly noticed.

Elion scoffed, a deep sound of disgust leaving his throat, and he looked like he very much wanted to march into their tents and drag them out.

"They better get used to this quickly," he hissed. "Or we're all fucking doomed."

Ellana frowned at her twin, her near mirror image, but didn't say anything. To Vala, that was as close as Ellana would get to agreeing with her twin.

"Saya," Kiara's voice was thick with sleep and her dark eyes were still closed. "I think they need a quick blast of cold to wake them."

Saya didn't even bother nodding, one hand outstretched towards the tents and Vala watched in awe as ice and frost gathered around her outstretched fingers and began to dance their way to the tents. Saya was barely frowning as she directed the trail to break and to slip into the tents.

Shocked yelps and soft screams echoed through the small clearing, Malika laughed lightly while Elion smirked in approval as the once-sleeping Wardens stumbled out of the tents.

"I believe we'll be leaving soon," Morrigan's amused voice almost startled Vala, and she glanced at the slim mage.

Morrigan was already dressed, her eyelids and lips stained dark purple, and a new dainty chain of gold with a small sapphire dangling from it was around her neck. Vala was surprised, she had been sure that the Wilds' mage was still asleep but it seemed like she was wrong.

"About time," Malika grumbled, seemingly too annoyed with the once sleeping Wardens to bother with her annoyance with Morrigan.

* * *

_Have I ever mentioned how much I hate mornings? Especially when I wake up early to travel while half the bloody party decides it's alright to sleep in despite the fact that a Blight was currently eating its way across the land?_

_Stupid bloody kids—Gods, I feel old._

* * *

There was something unnerving about heading towards a Tower of Magi, she had spent all her life being warned away and afraid of ending up in one of those Circles. Yet, here Ellana was, travelling with a group of Wardens and others towards the Tower, but she wasn't afraid. She had Elion and Kiara and the rest of the Companions behind her, they wouldn't let anyone touch her, wouldn't let those Templars make her stay.

"I was sure the Templar was going to make us go to Redcliffe," Malika muttered as they trudged along.

"The Arl is ill, there is nothing we can do for him," Kiara said, hitching her pack higher on her back. "The Mages seem to have a problem we can deal with, we've always been good at killing things."

"True as piss," Malika laughed almost tripping over a rock as she wasn't paying attention making Elion snort in amusement.

"Come on, we have a future to save," Elion quipped as he trudged ahead and the others laughed, Kiara didn't though.

* * *

_Future, that's what we were fighting for. We were fighting for our future, the rest of Ferelden's future. This Blight would change things, would change the fate of Ferelden, and I would be there to help change it._

_But after that? After this life? What will be my future? What will be my fate? Where would I wake up? Who will I be next time? _

_Fuck, it's too earlier in this life to thing about such things. I better live through this before I start thinking about my next life. _

_Like Elion said, we have a future to save. _


	16. Chapter 16

Sometimes Kiara couldn't recognise who she used to be, back when death meant death and life was simple—even if it was boring at times—back when Hydra was something in movies, mutant powers was a once childishly wished for, and she only had to fight the Blight on her PS3.

She had been lazy—partly by choice and partly because she was chronically ill—and selfish, oblivious with some things, creatively smart if she focused her mind—which she rarely did for long—and as truthfully blunt as a hammer to the face.

If she was actually honest with herself, she hadn't really changed that much. Sure, she wasn't that lazy anymore—twas amazing what some imprisonment and torture could do to someone—and she had learnt the importance of subtly, deceiving, self-awareness and the fine art of manipulation that she was a simple novice at. She still had the temper that she had once thought she had lost though it had been sharpened into a weapon, she was still selfish but in a different way than before.

She was protective, possessive, and violent in ways she had never been and was a confirmed murderer—hell, her side job as Ana was an assassin.

But underneath it all, deep down inside, though she loathed to admit it, she was still the same girl from before. She had only adapted to survive, she was still her underneath the cracks, the scars, the murderously impulses and very loose morals.

And sometimes that scared her more than thinking that she had become what they made her.

* * *

Leliana could remember when she first heard of the Companions, a visiting Noble from the Free Marches had been talking at a party she happened to be attending. The small scandal it had caused, a human running around with elves, a dwarf and a Qunari of all things? It was unheard of in Orlais for a human—of questionable birth, because the human woman was obviously too striking to be a common born woman apparently—running around with such races and fighting.

And not just fighting, oh no, this woman was a hired sword that killed and stole and yet was beloved by the common folk. This woman helped carry out daring escapes of mages right under Templar's noses, this woman had even taken down a dragon with her strange company—that was if rumours were too believed.

Leliana had built an image of this strange woman. She would be tall, standing shoulder to shoulder to Qunari companion, with the looks of a noble and the strength of a warrior. She would have a way about her that would draw people in.

The only thing Leliana had right was that way, that air, which folded around her willowy form and drew people to her. Kiara was tall, there was no doubt about that as she was just taller than Alistair, but she wasn't as towering as Leliana had once, perhaps foolishly, believed.

Kiara was pretty, beautiful even, but she was a sell sword by trade and it had left its scars on her, not even to truly detract from her looks but enough for the nobles of Orlais to frown at and mutter about.

Kiara truly hadn't been what Leliana had pictured and that made it better because that meant she was real.

* * *

Dani had quickly gotten her long pale locks cropped short—Ellana of the Companions was skilled with some scissors and Leliana helped style her now short locks, they were shorter than Andra's whose hair was surprisingly fast growing—as the fact was it was just too much of a hassle to look after as they made their way towards the Tower that she had once called home.

Lee had been stubborn in her own quiet way, her long dark red hair was twisted in a thick bun at the base of her neck, and refused to have hers cut. Sereda had cut her own golden locks with little finesse and hassle with one of her daggers, something that Vala had attempted to do before Leliana had stopped her, cooing in her accented voice that Vala's lovely hair shouldn't be butchered so harshly and had carefully trimmed the elf's hair to her shoulders so she could still put it back in a ponytail.

Melima and the other Companions with long hair—basically all of them apart from the dog and Malika—had a different way to deal with their hair as they braided them and then tied the back. Melima's and Elion's were apparently simple Dalish hunter braids while Ellana's had been twisted in a complex braid that was apparently dwarven in nature as Malika had done it and had caused a scowl to briefly crease Sereda's face as she stared at it.

Kiara had Saya do her hair and the Qunari had tied her dark locks into dozens of tiny braids which Kiara than tied in a low ponytail. It was interesting the look that crossed Morrigan's face when she realised that Kiara and Saya had almost matching hairstyles and it took everything in Dani not to laugh when she heard Morrigan attempting to find out if hairstyles meant anything in Qunari culture by actually talking with Sten later on—it was funny how jealous the apostate could become over the silliest things.

* * *

Morrigan wanted to sneer or huff as they stopped again because the poor little Tower mages were unused to walking in the big and bad world and had to rest to catch their breath back—she would have if she hadn't known that Kiara would accuse her of being childish with that maddening smirk on her face.

The red-head smiled up at Kiara as the mage's hound licked her hand and Morrigan had to refrain from sending a little shock at either one of them.

Apparently her desire was too clear on her face as the Qunari mage gave her a hard stare before placing her large hand on Kiara's shoulder in a protective gesture and Morrigan scowled.

It wasn't like she was really going to do it, honestly.

* * *

Leona wasn't very devout to the Maker—it was hard to be faithful when you're told that you've very birth was an affront against His will—but she couldn't stop herself joining Leliana's prays at camp. She prayed for the safety of her fellow mages in the Tower, she prayed that the rumours were exaggerated and she prayed for the safety of Cullen.

Her fingers wrapped around the locket that he had been able to sneak to her, it was a simple bronze thing but Leona loved it dearly and took care of it. It had been the last gift he had been able to get her before she was conscripted with Dani into the Grey Wardens.

Sometimes Leona wondered why Duncan had decided to take both of them, Dani had been the only one that was in danger of punishment—Dani, who was too loyal, too passionate, to stay away from Jowan's foolishly plan and had actually helped him—and yet Duncan had conscripted them both without pause and Leona had wanted to object as she meet the brown gaze of Cullen, wanted to say that her place was with the Circle, but then Dani had taken her hand and squeezed it tightly and Leona's objections had died in her mouth as she saw the relief that shone in her best friend's eyes and realised that she couldn't abandon her.

So Leona had left the Circle, her heart broken but her resolve hard, and fully believed she may never go back to her home. But here she was, marching ever forward to the Tower, to Cullen, and this time when she left, she would make sure she gave him a proper farewell and a promise to return.

* * *

_The game hadn't down the Tower of Magi justice. It had been built before Ferelden had been united under one King, back when it was just warring families, back when the Tevinter Empire was in power and it had lasted beautifully. _

_Polished white stone raised up from the waters of the lake, the great arched bridge stood strong despite the large chunk of it that stopped it being usable—I had a feeling that it hadn't been old age that had made some of the bridge crumble, but a war of some kind. _

_It was beautiful, for a gilded cage, but why did it have to be in a middle of a lake? Only accessible by a small ferry? What is wrong with people?_

* * *

It raised the hair on the back of her neck that there wasn't any Templars guarding the underground steps of the Tower. Dani hadn't ever known the steps of the Tower to be unguarded and she knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that the rumours that they had heard in Lothering wasn't as far-fetched as she had first thought.

Maker, she should have listened to Lee and her feeling. It had been Lee that had fought fiercely against Alistair, who appealed to Andra, who demanded they go to the Tower—so out of character for her quiet and reserved friend. Now that they were here, standing on the moss-covered stone of the dock and steps as one Templar ferried their groups across, Dani was sure they had made the right choice.

There was an almost corrupt feeling to the air that put her on her guard and made her hands crackle with barely restrained lightning as she gripped her staff tightly as she watched the last group, the Companions, get off the ferry.

Kiara was the first off, her face a little pale as her large dog licked her hand in attempt to comfort her as Ellana quickly followed and pulled a bottle from her satchel and handing it over to her human leader. Kiara didn't even grimace as she knocked the liquid back before handing back the bottle as some colour returned to her features.

"Fuck," Kiara muttered as Saya's hand rested on her shoulder. "I hate boats."

"Are we all ready?" Andra called back, Melima at her back with her bow ready, and her gloved hand closed tightly around the hilt of her family sword—Dani wasn't the only one who was uneasy it seemed and that only made her more wary.

"Let's get this over with before we piss ourselves with tension," Malika snorted and Kiara almost smiled at her short friend. Almost.

* * *

The inside of the Tower hadn't been done justice as well, Kiara noticed and she would have admired the outside more when they was crossing if she didn't suffer from sea-sickness—no matter how long she spent on a boat nor how calm the water, she always felt sick. It was a trait that she hadn't lost yet and doubted she ever truly would—a little slice of her old life that would never truly leave her.

It was all carved white stone, polished smooth, and the tiles worn under the wear of generations of mages' footsteps and stamping of Templars.

There was less than half a dozen Templars in the 'entrance' chamber, two guarded the barred door to the rest of the Tower and others either tended to their wounds or wearily watched the door as if they were expecting it to sudden burst open—judging by the broken bars tossed to one side, it wasn't without due caution.

Corruption was thick in the air, mixing with the smell of rotting flesh, burning flesh and human waste in a toxic perfume.

She was not looking forward to this.

"I don't like this," Elion scowled and Kiara grimaced.

"Keep on your guard, even with corruption in their very halls, some Templars don't know when to quit," she muttered back and Elion nodded, hand drifting to his hidden hunting blade and she kept her hands near the hilts of her own blades, ready to draw at any moment, and kept a protective eye on Saya, Ellana, and Morrigan—the only mages truly in danger of the Templars and their overzealous ways.

Saya, despite her deep distrust and almost fear of fellow Qunari, kept close to the Sten, keeping an eye on the loyal Qun follower as she didn't trust him despite his vow to Faren, and despite his views of mages, Kiara doubted he would really let anything happen to her and it wasn't like Saya would let anyone capture her—she would not let anyone take her freedom away again. Ellana never strayed too far from Elion, and Elion would have to be dead before he let anyone take Ella away from him. So that left Morrigan.

Golden eyes glanced at her as she slid into place flanking Morrigan before turning back with a sneer of disgust to the Templars. Yes, Morrigan would be under her protection.

* * *

_He wasn't there_, she noticed with a sudden surge of panic as her blue eyes danced over faces that she knew but didn't care about seeing. _He wasn't there_.

He wasn't amongst the injured nor the on-guard Templars, she couldn't see his head of curly blonde hair sticking out from under a sheet so he wasn't amongst the dead. Where was he then?

She almost gasped out loud with her sudden horror as she stared at the barred door—Dear Maker, he was in there, he was trapped inside.

_Cullen. _She thought with dread as she stared at the barred door and was hardly aware of the conversion going on around her between Greagoir and the other Wardens.

"What do you mean?!" Dani's voice was raised in anger, an undertone of horror, and Lee jerked to face her furious friend. "You've already sent for the Rite? There is still people in there!"

"What?" Leona's dark blue eyes widened as she stared at the Head Templar.

He hadn't heard her, his gaze was focused on the petite elf in front of him that was trembling with barely restrained anger and lightning crackling around her clenched fists.

"And they are as good as dead," his voice was clipped and Dani scowled all the harder.

"You don't know that," she shot back with all the righteous anger she had in her.

"I'm not sending my men to their deaths on the off chance that there is some still alive," Greagoir snapped.

"Then don't," Andra spoke up, a frown just creasing her lips and Dani rounded on her, mouth opening to begin a tirade when the noble woman continued. "Send us."

"Have you ever faced Abominations before?" Greagoir's features were tight but he didn't dismiss it outright which made hope bloom in Lee's chest.

"Yes,"

Only one voice replied and Greagoir's eyes found and pinned Kiara in place.

"Kiara of the Companions," he stated, not asked, but Kiara inclined her head anyway. "Considering you've come from the Free Marches, I'm not surprised."

"I'll take point, killing any Abomination I come across while the others take care of the survivors, sounds good yes?" Kiara asked and yet didn't at the same time, it was obvious that was what she was going to do with or without his blessing and he knew it.

"Once those doors shut behind you, I will not open without proper reassurance," he told Andra and she nodded.

"What reassurance?"

"First Enchanter Irving,"

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the delay, but my laptops have viruses and my internet isn't the best and I don't know when I'll be able to update again, sorry for that.**


	17. Chapter 17

Bios for the Characters

Companions

Kiara;

Kiara is a human rogue—Varric once claimed that she had enough blades hidden over her body to arm a small army—and is a Companion, the head of the Companions.

Officially thought of as being twenty-seven, despite the fact that she has lived before, and an age she accepts as her own. Kiara has dark hair and dark eyes, features more true to her first life, though with its own twist that she has learnt to accept—she has always been pleased in lives that have given her extra height that she had never had in her first life. She is the leader of the Companions though in truth it was Malika's idea and thus she should be the leader, it is a role that she accepts and falls into easily—though she would disagree.

Her life as Kiara was different than either of her lives as Hope or Ana, more of a blend of both of them. She isn't thought of as cold as she was as Ana, mostly because her eyes were a naturally icy colour.

* * *

Malika Cadash;

Malika is a duel-wielding warrior of the Companions, the only warrior of the group—her main weapons are her battle-axes, Annoy and Amuse, though she had a passing interest and skill with a bow when she was younger. Her dark hair was once long and kept back in a long braid before she had a run in with Bianca that left her hair short and she has yet to let it grow out—determined to beat Bianca back before letting her hair grown once more. Her grey eyes have often been compared to steel which has always pleased her.

Before meeting up with Kiara and befriending her, she had the possibility to become the future Inquisitor. Her meeting with Kiara took that fate off the table as Kiara refuses for anyone of hers become the Inquisitor. She is twenty-seven years old and is Kiara's best friend.

* * *

Saya;

Saya is a Qunari mage, once chained as her duty to the Qun and now free with the Companions, and wields a staff meant for war as much as it's meant for channelling magic. Saya has the atypical looks of a Qunari, white hair, ashy grey eyes and purple skin covering her tall frame though without the horns—her horns were cut and burnt soon after it was found out she was a mage as a child.

She is the self-appointed bodyguard of Kiara, never truly leaving her side for long. Her fate before meeting Kiara would have been death when another group of Qunari came across her that is the ground on which her loyalty of Kiara was built on. She is twenty-nine years old and is the oldest amongst the Companions.

* * *

Elion Lavellan;

Elion Lavellan was once considered a Dalish warrior though their warriors have always fallen in line with a rogue-fighting-style and thus considers himself an elven rogue. He has shoulder-length blonde hair kept back with a hunter braid, golden amber eyes and tattoos of the elven god of vengeance across his face. Exiled from his clan because of his homosexuality, he has found acceptance with the Companions—that exile more than anything took Elion out of the running for the fate as Inquisitor. Elion and his sister are both twenty-six years old.

* * *

Ellana Lavellan;

Ellana is the twin sister of Elion and shares almost all of his features though with a softer look, longer hair often pulled back in different hairstyles, and the reaching tree branches across her face that truly set her apart from her twin. She is an elven mage, considered to be the healer of the Companions, and shares an unbreakable bond with her twin. It was that bond that made her follow him into exile and stopped her future fate of being a possible Inquisitor.

Vala Tabris;

Vala is the youngest Companion at just seventeen, she was taught to fight by her mother and others of her family. The Tabris family have long been known as the guards of their alienage, dealing with unruly humans of all levels and the few cons that try their luck with the alienage. She was induced into the Companions by Kiara saving her from the noose after Vala slaughtered an Arl's son and most of his guards after being taken on her wedding day with family and friends and finding her younger cousin raped by said Arl's son.

Her dark red hair has been recently cut short, brushing her shoulders, dark eyes and golden skin. She is considered tall for an elf, being the average height of a human female. She has fitted in well with her older and more experienced Companions. Her fate could have been tied as a Warden if it wasn't for Kiara interfering.

* * *

Grey Wardens

Andra Cousland;

Andra Cousland, the youngest child and only daughter of the late Bryce Cousland, and considered to be the last of the Couslands as the fate of her brother is yet unknown. She is considered a skilled human warrior at the young age of eighteen. She has short dark hair and bright blue eyes, Cousland blue eyes.

At the moment, she is considered the leader of the Wardens with Sereda and Melima as her right and left hands. Unknowingly, she has the protection of Kiara and thus the Companions, because of a promise that Kiara made to her father almost a decade ago.

* * *

Alistair Theirin;

Bastard son of the late Maric the Saviour and half-brother to Calian, he is now the sole heir to the throne through blood-rite—a fact that he has either yet to acknowledge or realise. He is stockier then his older brother was and has kept his hair short in attempt to lessen the resemblance between himself and the others of the Theirin bloodline—a choice that was probably not his own when he was younger and something that is now a habit.

Despite the fact that he is the senior Grey Warden, he has shirked away from leadership—perhaps a side-affect from his upbringing to know he would never gain the throne as it belonged to his older brother?

He believes himself to be the son of a serving woman and has a sister when in fact he is the son of an elven mage named Fiona, who was once a Grey Warden. Unknowingly, he has both the respect and protection of Kiara, who is determined to get him on the throne with Andra as she honestly believes them to be the best choice for Fereldan when compared to Anora ruling alone or with Alistair in a loveless marriage.

* * *

Melima Mahariel;

Melima is a Dalish rogue/hunter and the only one that never had a real choice in becoming a Warden or not. It was either becoming a Warden or death as she was inflicted with a form of the Blight. Distrusting of most humans—often calling them shem—she is weary of most of her human companions and the only one she feels comfortable with is Andra—who guarded her and tended to her before the Joining—and has appointed herself as Andra's guard.

She still keenly feels the loss of Tamlen, blaming herself for letting him talk and charm her into exploring the ruins and not stopping him from touching that cursed mirror, and is now more cautious when it comes to things and protective of those she comes to care about which only consists of Andra at the moment though she is slowly warming to her fellow Wardens and she respects the Companions.

She is petite, even for an elf, and has wide green eyes and dark hair braided back in a hunters braid and the dark green twisting branches of Mythal spreading across her face, and is actually the youngest of the Wardens at just sixteen—something she has yet to share with anyone.

* * *

Lendanis Surana;

Lendanis once hailed from the alienage of Highever before her magically ability showed itself and was taken as a young child to the Tower. It was there that she was taught to control her magic—magic that was very suited to destruction magic and would class her as a battle mage eventually—and where she met her best friends, Leona Amell and Jowan.

It was because of her friendship to Jowan that she was in need of saving by Duncan and was recruited as a Warden with Leona Amell.

Slim with short pale hair and green eyes, Lendanis is one of the older Wardens at the age of twenty.

* * *

Leona Amell;

Hailing from Kirkwall of the Free Marches, Leona was the first of her siblings to gain magic and was taken from her mother when she was young and taken to the Tower in Ferelden. She is aware that her four siblings were also discovered to have magic and taken to different Towers throughout Thedas by spotty letters that she is able to exchange with her father.

Leona's induction into a Tower of Magi, and thus the fact she had magic, was one of the many, and yet still few, causes that caused the fall of the once great house of Amell.

Her dark red hair, a unique hair colour that she inherited from her father, has always been long as her clearest memory of her mother is when she would brush Leona's hair. It is because of that memory that Leona has refused many times to cut her—sometimes unruly—hair to a more manageable length. She has inherited the blue Amell eyes, though a slightly darker shade then her Hawke cousins, and is slender and pale.

She had an innocent courtship with the Templar Cullen—nothing more than chaste kisses, long talks and an exchange of trinkets.

She is also the same age as Lendanis at twenty-years of age and thus Lendanis, Alistair, Faren and herself are the eldest of the Ferelden's branch of the Grey Wardens.

* * *

Sereda Aeducan;

Second child, only daughter, of King Endrin Aeducan, sister of the late-Prince Train Aeducan and Prince Bhelen Aeducan. Banished from Orzammar, and taken from the stone, for treason against the royal family, fratricide and plain murder—a set-up by her younger brother Bhelen.

Orzammar's politics was deadly, perhaps deadlier then the politics of Orlais, and betrayal was almost the bread and butter of the recent generations of the Aeducan royal line as Sereda's own father, Endrin, was the second son and second in line to the throne, before he was able to convince his elder brother to fight against a known murderer in the Proving which resulted with the crowned prince's death and rumours of Endrin providing a poison for the blade that killed his brother during his last Proving fight.

It was something that wasn't talked about and yet wasn't truly hidden, making the three children of Endrin Aeducan wary of the each other as they grew up and duty called to them. Train, as the eldest and crowned prince, was very paranoid when it came to Sereda as he feared that she would follow the path of their father to gain the crown.

A plot that Sereda never really had to even think about as unlike her arrogant, paranoid and almost cold older brother, she was well liked in Orzammar and had a great amount of respect from various nobles. It was more than likely that on the event of Endrin's death, Sereda would be crowned through the Assembly instead of her older brother. A fact that she knew, which meant she didn't have to go through with the effort of fratricide to rule as she was almost assured the crown already.

The eldest two Aeducan siblings were so busy watching each other that they completely ignored the possibility that betrayal and murder would come from their younger brother, Bhelen, as both were confident that he either didn't have the cunning to do such a thing or that he was naïve for such trickery. Something that Bhelen knew and used to his advantage.

Though enraged with the betrayal and how easily that both Trian and Sereda had been played by their younger brother, there is a grudging respect of how well he played the game of throne.

She is consider tall for a dwarven woman with a fearsome strength. She earned her appointment as Orzammar's commander by being a skilled warrior. Blonde and blue eyed like both her brothers, though Sereda's hair had always been more golden and more like their late-mother's hair then either of her brothers. Sereda had just turned nineteen a month before she became a commander.

* * *

Faren Brosca; 

Only son of Kalah Brosca and brother to Rica Brosca, Faren learnt quickly to survive growing up in Dust Town amongst his fellow casteless.

He learnt early on that being a beggar or a street sweeper wouldn't put coin his pocket and food on the table and delved into petty-crime with his confident, Leske, were able to provide for themselves and Faren's family.

Quickly, they caught the attention of the Carta and was recruited by Beraht, who also realised that Rica, with her pretty looks and a bit of classing up, could make a good noble hunter. He was able to protect his sister as much as possible as well as feed his family as a Carta thug.

Unfortunately events caused him to illegally enter the Proving and would have led to his death or exile if Duncan hadn't stepped in.

Faren has often been compared the burning coals of Orzammar's blacksmiths and the lava that acted as the city's lake as his hair is a fierce fire red and his eyes are as dark as coal. He is twenty-one and thus the oldest of the Wardens.

* * *

_Sorry this has taken so long and I hope these are enough bios for you, if you want more then I will of course add more at request._


	18. Chapter 18

Low Town was about to become uncomfortably full, Varric thought to himself as he folded the letter that Kiara had sent him with Grumpy—the hawk that carried their messages and a bad temper which earned it the name Grumpy—and almost wanted to sigh as he pinched his nose.

A Blight, an honest-to-Maker Blight. Andraste's tits! That was something he never thought he would see and the Companions were right in the middle of it. Malika's face must have been a picture when Kiara declared she was going to fight the Blight, Varric couldn't help but think with a ghost of a smirk.

He tapped the folded letter with his fingers and mused on the added note that Kiara had added at the end.

"Hawke, huh?" he mused to himself, it was unusual that Kiara would be become interested in a whole family and that alone peaked his interest—without even mentioning that they were related to the Amells! He couldn't wait to see how old Gamlen explained how he lost the rest of the family fortune and prestige to his older sister.

Varric wondered if Leandra Hawk knew what had occurred to her family after she ran off and eloped with her Fereldan mage? The fall of the Amells were one of the most known scandals of Kirkwall, right next to Viscount Perrin Threnhold and his coup against the Templars and indirectly Orlais that ended up putting Templar Commander Meredith in charge and put Viscount Marlow Dumar in his seat of minimal power.

Kiara had a habit of getting interested in the most—how could he put it nicely and politely?—_interesting _people. They were either trouble, profitable, crazy or a mixture of all three—all things that Varric liked and could find useful.

He best keep his gaze directed towards the Gallows and keep an ear out for word of the Hawke family arriving.

* * *

The doors shut behind them with the resounding thud of a tomb sealing and Sereda almost wanted to shiver, it reminded her eerily of the doors sealing behind her in Orzammar when she was exiled to death in the Deep Roads. Something she hadn't wanted to be reminded of, but she had survived the Deep Roads so she would survive this too—in the name of the Paragon she couldn't officially claim as her own as she was stricken from the stone.

Corruption, waste, death and blood was thick in the air and made Leona, Lendanis and Vala retched at the stink and Sereda was almost sympathetic, they were too sheltered to ever be exposed to this level of carnage.

She glanced around as their group spread out, the hounds had been left with Templars for their safety, and paused as she noticed Kiara crouched above one of the bodies.

It was slight enough to be considered a child by human standards, Sereda knew, and Kiara's eyes were unnervingly blank and hard as she stared down at the young man, a bloody and weeping gash was carved deep from his right hip and up to his left shoulder—a mortal wound made by a blade—but her hand was surprisingly gentle as she closed the staring eyes of the boy.

"Templars," Elion snarled, disgust and hate clear in his tone as he too inspected the wound on the boy—no demon could make that wound unless they suddenly started using blades which Elion doubted.

Kiara's head just barely cocked to the side, enough for Elion to notice, and he knew that Kiara agreed with him. A Templar had killed this child, a Templar probably on the other side of the doors, a Templar that they were indirectly helping and that made Elion's blood boil slightly.

"Oh Mythal," Ellana muttered, her hand twitching towards the boy but Elion's hand clamped down on hers and shook his head at his twin—obviously she had wanted to heal the boy but it was far too late.

"His name was Edwin," Leona's quiet voice almost made Sereda jump and she glanced over her shoulder at the red head, dark blue eyes were wet as she stared almost blankly at the boy she had obviously known. "He was new to the Tower and still so terrified of everything."

"Lee," Lendanis' voice was the softest that Sereda had heard it as she wrapped an arm around Leona's shoulders, for a moment Sereda was sure that Leona was going to shrug it off—she had been on edge since she heard of the rumours surrounding the Tower—but instead the human leaned into her elven friend, the need for comfort overwhelming her need to act and move for the briefest moment.

"Andra?"

Kiara's gaze flickered up, hearing the hesitant voice of Alistair over the sound of Lelianna's prays, and watched him place a comforting hand on Andra's back, guiding her closer to his side and lending her his strength as her bright blue gaze refused to move from the blood that pooled around the dark haired boy—a boy barely a half-a-dozen years older than her nephew had been—and Melima hovered and loomed as Andra's silent protector—petite though the Dalish was, like Kiara herself had once been able to do when she was Hope, Melima made herself seem taller by the very air she gave off, the stand she held herself, and the way she seemed to be able to look down her nose at everyone despite having to look up at most of their companions—and Kiara concluded that they had Andra well in hand—Andra didn't need her.

Truly Kiara would have little to do to insure that Andra survived this, she didn't have to scheme and plot for Alistair and her to feel romantically to each other as they were doing that on their own, and that freed up Kiara to do what she was really good at. She wasn't a schemer, she couldn't manipulate people as Natasha had done as easy as breathing nor could she prod them into thinking her way with a disarming smile and a slight nudge to their thoughts like Charles had done more often than he would ever admit nor could she distract them with her beauty before ensnaring their minds like Emma had done for shits and giggles most often than not.

Kiara had always been much like the two men that she had been lovers to. Straight-forward, stubborn and superiorly skilled at destroying things, they hadn't been built to manipulate things or to scheme and plan. They were built to fight, to defend, to kill, to protect, and they had all been damn good at that. They had been the weapons that their people directed towards enemies, they had been the looming defenders that made people stop and hesitate about attacking them.

Kiara was not, in fact, a warrior. Hell, the only Companion that could be classed as a warrior was Malika and she defied tradition by duel-wielding twin battle-axes—Amuse and Annoy, apparently were their names which suited their wielder much more than them—while Elion and Kiara, and now Vala, was basically rouges so it was strange for the more traditional warriors—Andra, Alistair, Sten and Sereda—were letting her lead considering all of them—even the leading shy Alistair—were all much more used to leading the party into battle.

The only reason she was leading was because unlike the others, Kiara had actually fought against Demons, Abominations and such so everyone was going to follow _her_ lead. Joy.

* * *

She shouldn't have been surprised to find a staff levelled at her head, held firmly by the aged hands of Wynne, who stared unflinching at Kiara as the stone affixed to her staff glowed ominously, and yet she was. She knew that Wynne would be ready to strike down any who threatened her fellow mages harm and yet the game truly downplayed her reaction.

"I have a stick in my face," she decided to deadpan, already feeling the slightly burning to her ears that told her that Elion, Saya and Malika were moments away from cutting/striking down the aged mage in front of her.

Despite the fact that Wynne would mostly likely disapprove of her outlook on life or lifestyle, Kiara actually liked the old mage and didn't want to see her dead. Wynne still had a good decade in her before she would finally fall to death and Kiara didn't want to be the cause of that being cut short.

"Take another step and I'll strike you down," Wynne declared strongly, with all the protectiveness and conviction of mother protecting her young. "I don't care who you are," she added with a pointed glance to the Warden blue bands tied around the biceps of Andra, Alistair and Sereda—the three Wardens in direct view.

Despite all the respect that Wynne held the Wardens in, she was willing to kill them to protect her fellow mages and Kiara didn't doubt that for a moment so she was somewhat thankful that Leona finally managed to squeeze herself through the group and launch herself at Wynne with an almost joyous cry of their elder's name.

Despite looking gobsmacked and reaching out to grab and hold Leona close with one arm, the staff didn't waver from its position direct point-blank at Kiara's face and Kiara couldn't help but to be impressed and her respect for Wynne to go up a notch.

"Leona," Wynne almost sighed in relief, some of the grief and tension in her face eased as she pressed a kiss to Leona's deep red hair like a mother would. "You're alive."

"Kiara's Companions helped save us," Leona told her, fair hand reaching out and gentling lowering the staff away from Kiara's face as Lendanis slid out from behind Sten and moved closer to her friend, giving an almost respectful nod to Wynne which she returned.

"Then it seems I should be thanking you and not threating you," one of Wynne's white eyebrows arched in slight disbelief and Kiara let a smirk cross her face as she inclined her head in a shallow bow.

"It seems that way indeed," Kiara agreed easily.

"We're here to help you," Andra stepped forward and just in front of Kiara in a move that was protective more than anything and almost made Kiara smile fondly at her. "We need to get to the First Enchanter before the Writ comes and every mage in this Tower is sentence to death."

The look of Wynne's face was grim but not surprised.

"Then we better get a move on then," the old mage decided strongly. "Choose who will travel with us deeper into the Tower, Grey Warden, for not all can come and fight comfortably in the halls of this Tower."

And for the first time since Lothering, the group split into two groups.

Andra, Alistair, Kiara, Saya, Malika, Faren, Leona, Sten and Wynne would be heading forwards while Melima, Morrigan, Elion, Ellana, Lendanis, Sereda, Vala, and Lelianna would be staying with the mages and defending their safe spot.

The number was evenly split though the classes were not; three mages would be going, three mages would be staying, four warriors were going and one was staying, two rouges were going and four were staying.

* * *

Seeing a Tranquil was disconcerting, the totally blank look that they held in their eyes made her skin crawl and she could understand why death would be preferred over being branded Tranquil. She could also understand why mages went mad after being cured, the abuse that some mages were subjected to was enough to make anyone crazy—she would know, she hadn't exactly lived through her time with Hydra with her sanity intact—add in the sudden influx of emotions with renewed access to their magic, well how could anyone be surprised?

It was something she was determined not to let happen to any of the mages she knew, she would slaughter any Templar that tried to take them without even a hint of regret.

Kiara honestly felt sorry for them, if she ever came across a Tranquil in her travels, she knew that she would offer them a place in her Companions—if only so they would have someone to enchant their weapons and armour, was that a callous thought? Yes, but Kiara couldn't have survived as long as she did by remaining soft-hearted.

She was what she was, and fuck those that didn't like it.

* * *

Faren was a dwarf, he was born from the stone and thus not connected to the Fade. The other races may pity his race for not dreaming in the Fade, but they didn't need the Fade to dream.

Still, their disconnection to the Fade meant there was no dwarven mages and before Ostagar, they had been little more than stories to Faren. It had been in awe when he first saw the destruction that the mages could bring—he was very glad they were on his side.

But now he was facing the reality of mages, the darker side that made humans, elves and Qunari fear them, and he understood how lucky the dwarves were not to have to face this every day. But he also understood why some of mages had resorted to this, why they had jumped head-first into blood-magic and fought against the chains that bound them.

Faren could tell that Kiara could likewise sympathise, he recognised the look of someone that had been pushed to breaking point, who had been grinded under someone's foot just because that someone thought they were better, who had been bound by chains and broken free. But Kiara's sympathy was overshadowed by a deadly rage, which boiled hotter than lava every time she saw the broken body of a child or a monstrous Abomination that was just too small—even with the added height of twisted and corrupted flesh that turned them from a person to a monster—to be an adult or a full grown adult.

No blood-mage was given mercy, not even those that begged for it, Kiara's blades always either slid home between their ribs and into their heart/lungs or swiped against their bare necks. For once, Alistair didn't seem to disagree with the violence that Kiara dealt out as easy as breathing—he almost looked like he approved as he glared with disgusted hatred at the Abominations and blood mages.

* * *

_**AN: Next chapter will most likely be the Fade and we'll all see just how Kiara will react to someone messing with her mind. I will be replacing chapter seventeen's AN with character bios and such in the future and I'll let you know when that it is. Sorry it's taken me so long, but I've just got my laptop fixed. Thank you for being patient and I hope you've enjoyed this long-awaited chapter. **_


	19. Chapter 19

Kiara couldn't help the nervous tension slowly gripping her as they made their way further into the Tower and closer to the Sloth demon. She was wondering what the Fade would look like; would it follow the game or would it follow the books?

Truthfully, she was worried what the Sloth demon would show her. She had more than one lifetime's memories, would that confuse it enough? Or was the Demon's power greater than that? She didn't know and she hated that.

Knowledge was power and all that bullshit—if she ever ended up in the Harry Potter-verse, she'd probably end up as a Ravenclaw though she wasn't too sure about that as she was definitely foolishly 'brave' enough for Gryffindor, she was torn if she wanted to end up there as on the one hand _magic_, and on the other Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore.

"I don't like this," Malika muttered as they stood in the First Enchanter's study. "Something doesn't feel right."

Saya grunted in agreement, shifting to conceal Kiara's rummaging through one of the chests in the room.

"You mean apart from the corruption and the fact there is only three of us?" Kiara asked as she finally found the black book covered in runes that she knew Morrigan would want.

Malika grunted, tapping one of her axes against her side. It was the first time in a long time that only the three of them were together and fighting against beings without Elion and Ellana.

"What are you doing?" Wynne's voice was deeply suspicious and Kiara leaned out from behind Saya with an innocent smile that only made those blue-green eyes narrow more at her.

"Resting," Kiara claimed without blinking too much or not blinking at all—the most common signs of lying—as Malika carefully closed the lid of the chest without bringing Wynne's attention to her. "We still have much of the tower to go through after all."

"Why don't I believe you?" Wynne asked making Malika snort.

"Because you're too damn suspicious for your own good," Malika groused and Wynne raised an eyebrow at the dwarf.

"I like to think I have a healthy amount of suspicion for my own good," she countered calmly and Kiara couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

"We're moving out," Andra called from closer to the door making Wynne look at their leader—giving Kiara enough time to tuck the tome in the small pack that she had hanging around her waist.

As they passed by Irving's desk to re-join the group, Kiara casually swiped the small painted box and put that too in her bag—it was always good to do a favour for the Red Jenny.

* * *

"For piss sake," Malika grunted as she scraped some fleshly corruption off her boots with her axe. "Why are Towers supposedly better for mages? _We've_ never had this problem."

"And for that you are lucky," Wynne almost sniffed in distain and Malika barred her teeth at the elder mage.

"We have a point," Kiara seconded, hand resting on Malika's shoulder and Wynne raised an eyebrow.

"And that is?"

"What the fuck is that?!" Malika blurted out before Kiara could say anything and she realised that they were finally face to face with the Sloth demon.

"Can you just, I don't know, stay still while we kill you?" Faren asked in an almost hopeful manner.

"Fighting and killing is so tiring, don't you want to rest?" the Sloth demon asked.

"Don't listen to him," Wynne commanded sharply, hand tightening around her staff as she leaned heavily against it.

"You can piss on that," Malika slurred as she began to waver. "This room is reeks."

"I'm so tired," Alistair yawned as he slowly began to slip down the floor, Andra soon joining him.

"I'm so going to kill you," Kiara hissed, fighting against the sleep enchantment that was making her body heavy and the demon's head cocked to the side almost curiously.

"You are strong," it noted. "But your strength will mean nothing."

"Fuck you," was Kiara's last words as she collapse on the floor.

* * *

_I fucking hate demons. _

_I thought I should just let you know._

* * *

It wasn't the softness of the mattress or the sound of birds outside a window that woke her up, it was the feeling of at least three bodies in the rather big bed with her that did it.

She kept her breathing controlled, deep and even, as she pushed through the fogginess that was messing with her head. She fuckin' hated people messing with her head and she had always been overly aware of people attempting to fuck with her mind.

In her stupidly long life, Kiara had dealt with drugs and poisons that affected her mind, mental torture, a number of mind-reading mutants who were either too nosy for their own good or she was fighting against, and she had, on one memorable occasion, fought a blood-mage who attempted to ensnare her mind and she had been brutal when she killed him—she still had the claw marks down her back from the demon that the blood mage had brought forth in attempt to save his life. It hadn't worked.

Her eyelids burnt red, the 'room' she was in was filled with light then, and on the breeze coming from her right was the smell of Xavier's. Which was impossible.

Fuckin' demons. Frankly Kiara was already tired of them and she hadn't had to face many in all her years here. Next time, she hoped she went somewhere that didn't have demons or things that could mess with her mind.

A fool's hope she knew, most worlds she knew had some type of mind reader—accept Harvest Moon series, but she wasn't a farmer. Couldn't she just have one peace life? Perhaps a proper life in the Pokémon world than one that she was convinced was a dream.

At least she hadn't been dropped into the Once Upon Time world, she hadn't watched a lot of it but the purely black and white view that they had had of course annoyed her the few times she had watched it. But then again it was based on fairy tales.

She had wasted enough time thinking, better start acting and seeing what the Sloth demon had decided would stop her.

The room was a senseless mixture of Thedas, her room at Xavier's and her room at the Avengers Tower. There was no 'modern' technology that she had grown up with a few times, the weapons were fixed on white painted stone walls and were different type of blades.

She slowly sat up, the covers falling off her bare body and she fought back a grimace—what was with people and getting her naked?—and was almost amused to see some of her old clothes scattered around like she once did in the Avengers Tower before she had actually learnt to be tidy—something that her mother had never been able to fully teach her or instil in her.

The clothing was a mix-match of clothes she wore as an 'Avenger', as an 'X-men' and now as a 'Companion'.

"Kiara?" a familiar voice heavy with sleep asked and Kiara wasn't that surprised to see a naked Morrigan reaching out for her.

Smack! Kiara slapped 'Morrigan's' hand from her and scrambled out of bed, she stood and glanced at the other two people in the bed. Bucky and Logan stared back at her and Kiara scowled at them.

"Take those faces off now,"

"Kid," 'Logan' grunted and Kiara reached for a blade that should no longer be tied around her waist but was and pointed it at them—she wasn't surprised she was back in the leathers and mail she should be in.

"You don't have fight us, you could have us all," the demon purred in Morrigan's voice and Kiara laughed, it was a harsh laugh that almost made it flinch, and glared.

"You can see my memories, right?" she demanded out the question and 'Morrigan' glanced at the two males either side of her for direction—Morrigan never looked at anyone like that, lost and almost timid.

"Yes," 'Bucky's' voice came out matter-of-fact.

"Then look into them and see all what I've done, see what I could do to you if you attempted to stop me leaving this place," she dared them with her teeth barred and they did, they must have, because their illusions dropped and three Lust demons stared back at her in various degrees of fear.

"What are you?" the lone woman of the trio breathed in horror.

Kiara should have been concerned with how much horror a demon showed when confronted with her memories, but was too annoyed to feel anything else.

"Extremely annoyed," Kiara answered and left through the only door of the room, only not to be confronted by the Fade but by a glass cell she had left behind over a century ago.

The door thudded behind her and she whirled to see it seal itself away.

"Is this meant to frighten me?" Kiara asked to no one, she hadn't been afraid of this cell for a long time.

A clicking and chattering noise made her freeze, she knew that sound and wished she didn't, and felt she was going to be sick. Oh gods, please don't let it be that, she prayed to herself.

She slowly turned on leaded legs and wanted to scream as she stared into the many eyes of one of Thedas' giant spiders.

Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton as she reached for one of her blades, her scared reflection staring back at her from a dozen eyes.

Okay, he had frightened her now.

* * *

Malika blinked, her head felt as fuzzy as if she had drunk too much ale and taken a nap—something she knew she hadn't done recently—and found herself staring around the Hanged Man.

"What the piss?" she muttered as she stared around the merriment that was happening around her and the large tankard of ale was on the table in front of her.

"What's wrong Mal?" Kiara's voice asked and Malika glanced at whoever—or whatever—took her form.

Malika had two choices, she could either attempt to fight her way out of this false Hanged Man and away from her false family and attempt to find the real ones or she could stay and wait for the real Kiara to find her.

"She's probably reached the end of her line for once," Elion's voice drawled and Malika hardly glanced at him—or it or whatever—as there was only one thing that would determine if she stayed or not.

She carefully wrapped her hands around it and brought it close to her face to study it, it looked good but the look could only tell her so much.

"You're going to ruin your body with ale, Malika," Ellana's voice was as disapproving as it had been for years as Malika gulped down the ale.

She slammed the tankard on the table with stayed silent for a moment.

"Malika?" Kiara's voice asked and Malika made her choice.

"A fresh round for everyone!" Malika called out making a cheer go up.

Truly it was best if she stayed where she was, dwarves weren't meant to go stumbling around the Fade anyway.

* * *

**AN: I don't think this is my best chapter but it should fill you for now, hopefully. This is only part one of the Fade. Review and tell me what you think and if there is anything you'd like to see in later chapters. **


	20. Chapter 20

Dreams could be wondrous things, they could also be completely terrifying and that inlaid his power. Sloth could entice the strongest minds with whispers of more power, more love, more gold, more anything and he could also break the strongest of wills by bringing old memories and terrifying nightmares to life.

For this group, so blood-thirsty, so simply tiring to deal with, he had decided to mix and match. For the aged Mage, he showed her the failure she feared deeply and was almost amused with how quickly she forgot herself, so lost was she in her grief, guilt and pure failure as she stared around her in horror. Her failure kept her chained.

The other mage, a quiet yet spirited little thing, he showed her the broken form of her forbidden lover and he knew that she would not be able to bring herself to leave him as long as he needed her. Her love trapped her.

The little Templar so longed for family that it was almost too easy to trap him in a dream of a life with his dear long-lost sister and her children, Sloth had even been thoughtful enough to add in a copy of the warrior noble woman he travelled with and desired so keenly. His happiness was his prison.

While she was trapped in her own nightmare of the night her family died, but with her wielding the sword that cut down her nephew, her sister-in-law, her mother and her father. Her horror was her chains.

The dwarf—oh it had been years since he had a dwarf to play with and he had two!—was easy to entice. A dwarf born from nothing that longed for anything and everything, it was a vision of greed that kept that dwarf prisoner. The other dwarf, the female, was also easy, gluttony of alcohol and cheer, kept her in place though he would admit he had been worried for a moment because it seemed her dream flickered for a moment.

The Qunari warrior was content to live knowingly in a dream, t'was a boring dream and Sloth was almost disappointed in his work. The Qunari mage though, her nightmare was a thing of beauty and would completely destroy her and keep her forever.

That left the oddity, the human with too many memories. He had layered her dream, first with happiness and then with fear, and believed—hoped maybe—that would be enough. But as he felt her first dream shatter, he looked and almost recoiled at the depth of her fury.

Sloth had the idle thought that this human would have been a very powerful demon and he was almost glad that she was only human.

* * *

Saya knew the hand that she held close, she knew all the rough and hard callouses from years of using the blade, she knew how easily those hands caused death and she remembered how gentle those hands could be when used to help treat wounds and not inflict them before Ellana joined them and became their 'healer'.

Kiara's hands had never been truly still, she had always had an angry red-hot energy to her that Saya knew would never been dosed. Her hands always worked on her blades, playing with them idling, cleaning them and sharpening them or her fingers would coil around Logan's thick fur or lay a hand of Saya, Malika, Elion or Ellana in comfort more for her then them. There was always strength in Kiara's hands, a strength that never went away no matter how gentle Kiara's touch was made to be, a strength showed how easy she could hurt or kill anyone but chose not to.

There was no strength left in the hand she was clutching, no reassuring warmth just cooling skin that almost made Saya want to fling the hand away from her in disgust. The cooling fleshy feel of a fresh corpse and Saya keened, a low and yet high pained sound, as she brought Kiara's hand closer to her.

Those that had done this, those that had killed her—them—those that had seen her and hunted her in the name of Qun, laughed at her pain and Saya lashed out—they had taken her staff, thrown it carelessly away from them and her, the staff that Kiara had bought her and taught her to maintain—and her magic answered.

Great spears of ice burst from the ground, rushing towards the men that had done this but being oh-so careful not bring any more harm to the bodies that surrounded her, and they cursed her in their—her—native tongue as they moved, trying to outpace the deadly spears of ice and revenge—not all succeeded.

Ellana's body was covering the body of her other half, Elion had sacrificed his life—like they always knew he would—to protect hers and she had gone mad with grief and rage. Her head, her glossy golden hair haloing around her features, had finished rolling several feet away from them, part of her face deformed into the mask of an Abomination.

Golden were their crowns, golden were their shrouds. Saya remembered Kiara muttering something like that once and it had stuck with her.

Vala had been the first to fall, still too new and too young. She hadn't gone through what the other Companions had gone through, didn't have Kiara pushing her and pushing her for years to become better because there was no such thing as good enough in Kiara's mind—a mind-set she had taught them all through blood, sweat, tears and unfortunately bile because that's all the things _her_ teacher had put her through when she was first starting to learn to battle, she would say when Malika cursed her and Elion swore vengeance between coughing up foul tasting bile after expelling all they had eaten.

Her dark eyes, as expressive as Kiara's eyes but without all Kiara's age, sorrow and shadows, were staring blankly towards the sky as the heavens rained down on her, trails of false tears cleared away blood and dirt from her too young face.

Malika had died with her axes buried deep into her enemy, a spear impaling her to him in an eternal embrace of blood and death. Her steel eyes were still set in a glare though unfocused because of death.

Logan, fierce and loyal Logan, had given his last breath without her noticing, his head had nudged its way under Kiara's free bloodied hand.

They were dead, they were gone, they were dead, and it was all her fault.

"Bind the Saarebas," a cold voice ordered in her native tongue and Saya found herself unable to fight as she stared blankly at her family.

Her hands were tied tightly with thick rope and rubbed at her wrists and laid perfectly on the scars that were there before, she didn't care as Kiara's hand was still clasped in her own. Familiar and yet unfamiliar clawed hands fisted her hair and yanked her head back sharply and Saya knew what was about to happen, her tongue was to be cut out before her lips sewn together again.

"What the fuck do you think you're fuckin' doing?" an impossible voice snarled, furious in a way that Saya had rarely, if ever, heard before and then a familiar tip of a blade was shoved through the thick body of the Qunari that had been in front of her and reaching for her mouth as another familiar blade created a smile on said Qunari's throat.

He gasped, a wet sound that made blood bubble to his suddenly pale lips, and slowly slid down the sword through him and away from the short-sword that was kissing his bloody throat, to show his murderer.

Kiara stood behind him; tall, furious and more importantly alive, and Saya couldn't stop the relieved hysterical laughter from slipping from her lips and Kiara glared at her, a furious and almost confused glare before she turned her righteous anger to the demons that had played out Saya's worse nightmare.

"You have till the count of one to get the hell away from us," she told them, tone matter of fact. "Or I'll start attacking with extreme prejudice, understand?"

The hands still in her hair tightened slightly; a spasm of nerves and fear, Saya suspected as that was the common reaction when Kiara was angry.

"Two," Kiara began and it almost made her fall with how fast the hands released her, her hands caught her weight and the nightmare melted away to show the Fade, all the demons were gone and Saya was alone with Kiara.

"Kiara," her name left her lips in a relived breath and once again Saya was pinned with Kiara's glare.

"If you ever give up, no matter what the fuck happened to us, I'll crawl myself back to my rotting body to kick your sorry arse for even considering giving up," Kiara promised quietly before turning on her heel sharply. "Come, we have to find Malika."

And Saya smiled as she stood, staff once again back in its rightful place—her hand—and followed after her furious leader.

* * *

There was a problem with Fade-produced ale, Malika had realised with dismay. It didn't actually make one drunk, which was the whole point of ale and other lovely drinks that Malika respected more then her own Paragon.

The Fade also couldn't completely recreate the atmosphere of the Hanged Man which also dampened her spirits a bit. Pissing hell, it was almost a waste of time—and that was something Malika thought she'd never think when alcohol was involved—and made her wonder if she should have gone looking for Saya and Kiara instead of staying before she mentally shrugged.

It was probably too late to start wandering around for them now.

"Malika,"

Malika started because that was Kiara's voice and it was raised and furious—so different from the calm and cut-and-dry tone that Kiara normally used and the tone that whatever had taken her form has used—and she jerked, her head moving to find her and she saw a sight that she would always remember.

Kiara was striding through the illusion of the Hanged Man, furious and not even hiding it, and all the spirits and demons fled from her as the illusion melted and Malika landed heavily on her arse as her seat also disappeared.

"Oh, ah, hey Ki," Malika began nervously. "Fancy seeing you here, I'd offer you a drink but it seemed it all has disappeared, funny that?"

"Hilarious," Kiara stated with little infliction and Malika squirmed—she had seen Kiara in various states, pissin' hell she had seen the human angry and scared out of her mind, but she had never seen as fuckin' pissed as she was now and it almost scared her. "Let's go."

Okay, scratch that previous thought, she was scared and could freely admit it. She almost pitied the poor demon who had fucked with Kiara's mind because if the Wardens thought she had been brutal before, well they were going to have a huge shock to see how brutal she would be to it.

* * *

Kiara remembered when she was still Ana—less broken then she had become under Shaw's hands and a bit more whole after spending years with family and friends—when Charles was in one of his reflective moods—a state he fell more often in as they grew older, though Ana never looked as old as the younger man, and he finally became bald like he knew and dreaded he would from her memories—and he had told her that he had been very glad that she had decided to help him keep Eric with them as he had been afraid of what could have happened and before she could misunderstand, he had told her that he had been afraid of just what she would do for her Eric and to keep her Alex safe.

Eric had a limit to his cruelty, growing up with Ana had taught him what happened to a person if they went too far or their morals were too loose or what happened when you killed too much or became a prisoner or torture victim for too long, but Ana? There was no limit to what she would do for those she loved and Charles had known that. At least at the school, Ana limited herself for the sake of the children.

Ana hadn't been hurt, she understood and she knew what Charles feared could and would have happened if she hadn't decided that the school would be better for Eric, and prehaps more importantly for Alex, and thus got herself involved that day on Cuba so many years ago.

She honestly believed that she hadn't been as broken as Hope and that it was Shaw that had finally broken her too much for her to be like she was as Hope. Yes, she had gotten better as Ana and she was better as Kiara, but she would never be as childish and almost carefree as Hope had been. She guessed that Hope had really been her childhood like Charles had once said.


	21. Chapter 21

Surprisingly—or perhaps not—Faren was the first of the Wardens to break out of his Fade-induced dream. It wasn't really the virtue of being a dwarf that made him realise something was wrong; the dwarven people as a whole didn't enter the Fade, too close to the stone some would say, and thus shouldn't really recognise the Fade and break such a vision casted by such a demon easily—if one really thought about it though he doubted anyone did because why the fuck would they? It's not like people actually cared.

Other dwarves, Faren thought, would have been scared shitless when they realised where they were and that wouldn't help them at all. It was actually Faren's life before the Wardens that made him a naturally suspicious bastard when it came to certain things.

Waking up with a mind muddled and clouded like he had done one to many drinks with Leske or that bitch Jarvia—never trust an assassin, especially female ones who used poison—had slipped him something again made Faren immediately alert.

You didn't survive as long as he had in Dust Town, keeping hold of an actual house and with a pretty sister to protect, without being alert. He opened his eyes to a grandeur that he had only seen before in the wealthier common houses that he had sometimes visited, the Carta didn't have much business with the higher level noble houses though not because of a lack of trying, and he frowned as he looked around what was obviously a bedroom that his mind attempted to say was his but he knew it wasn't.

At the moment his bed was a mat on whatever ground they came across that was dry and firm, he hadn't slept in an actual room for what seemed like months though were just a couple of weeks as they travelled from the Wilds to Lothering and then finally to the Tower where they just were.

It was something he knew, something he knew with full certainty though something tried to sway him—to tell him that they had saved the Tower, the mages, and ended the Blight. That he was welcomed home as a Paragon and other such nug-shit that he knew wasn't true and he wanted to scowl because something was messing with his mind and he decided he really hated that.

"Faren,"

He looked up because that was Rica's voice, and if there was anyone on this earth that he loved it was her and he would never deny her, and immediately knew it was a fake staring at him with her brown eyes.

The last time he had seen Rica, she had a shy but happy and hopeful light in her deep brown eyes and a roundness that only someone that watched her like a hawk every moment possible would notice to her normally flat—almost gaunt—stomach. This Rica had none of that, this Rica was fake, and this Rica had stolen his sister's face somehow.

Rage, that he had normally been able to control and focus on the scum that the Carta sent him to beat the shit out or kill, built deep in his chest as he stared at the thing that wore his sister's face, who mocked her sweet voice, and he didn't think as he lunged forward, a dagger automatically in his hand, and tackled the thing to the ground, ignoring how like Rica it still sounded as it screamed and begged for mercy.

"What the fuck did you do to my sister?!" he snarled, using his superior weight to keep the thing down, pushing his dagger against its' neck and ignoring the beads of blood that broke through its thin skin.

"Faren," it strutted, its eyes blown wide with fear and Faren didn't miss the hint of red in its eyes, "It's me, Rica," it sobbed like Rica had when she had hobbled in through the door after her first 'hunt' and Faren snarled, blade pressing down harder making it gasp. "I'm your sister!"

Faren stared with contempt down at the thing that still attempted to insist that it was his sister and didn't blink as he slid his blade across its throat.

"No you're not," he declared as it choked, struggling against him as Rica's face bubbled and deformed into the face of a panicked demon.

The fog and the annoying itching at the back of his head like someone was attempting to control what he thought disappeared as it stopped struggling and its eyes stared up at his face blankly, deformed face still twisted in a primal fear of death.

* * *

Morrigan woke and yet didn't, the Fade could truly be a confusing place to be in and she scowled at the fanciful room she was in because she knew she had decided to take a nap on one of those uncomfortable slabs of stone that was meant to be benches.

She had, perhaps naively, hoped that she would be spared the drama of demons trying to tempt her as she was only one of many mages caught in this damn Tower. She was obviously not one of the weak-minded pathetic snivelling Tower mages that she had been left behind to protect.

"Did I wake you?"

It wasn't the question that made her jerk and her head snap to its source, it was the voice. A voice that she was very familiar with.

Morrigan's breath hitched in her throat.

Kiara stood beside the bed that Morrigan was sat up in, her eyes soft like whenever she looked at Morrigan when they had been children and her long dark hair was loose and hung over her shoulders—not one of those stupid braids in sight, she noted with almost smug approval. She was dressed in what was obviously a night-shirt, a thick woollen thing that was so practical that she almost smiled at how Kiara it was—because Kiara was nothing if not pratical—and showed Morrigan a new hint of how far Kiara's new tan went. And yet that wasn't what had stunned Morrigan, no it was what Kiara held protectively.

A baby, more a toddler then a mewling baby, was perched on Kiara's hip with one chubby hand wrapped tightly around Kiara's dark hair while the other was fixed stubbornly in his mouth as he stared at her with brown eyes.

At first glance, his eyes looked like that fool's, Alistair's, brown eyes—something she had already come to a conclusion that he would be the one she would have to do the ritual with, if she did it of course—but Morrigan knew those eyes, knew them in a way that she would never know Alistair's eyes. It was impossible, but the toddler stared at her with Kiara's dark eyes.

It was then she noticed that the boy's hair was almost a reddish brown—much like Kiara's was in certain lights—and she almost hungrily scanned his features, the result of her newest dream that she hardly dared to dream of.

There was small hints of Alistair; the nose, the slightly lighter tone of his hair. But more importantly he looked like Morrigan and Kiara, like he was their child.

"Our boy is beautiful," the demon wearing Kiara's face and bearing her voice fondly stroked the child's hair that unfortunately had a slight unruliness that Alistair's had. "Isn't he, love?"

"You know that I'm not taking in, Demon," Morrigan spoke sharply, ignoring the tug to her heart at hearing the endearment love falling from Kiara's lips towards her. "Do not insult me by continuing with this farce."

"Is that what you truly want?" the demon asked almost curiously. "You'd rather go back to a world where you mean nothing to her, to a world where this will never exist then stay where you can finally get what you want?"

There was an underline of scorn to the question that made Morrigan almost raise her hackles like she would when in her wolf form and was challenged by another wolf who thought it could challenge Morrigan without contest.

Morrigan didn't blink as both the demon and its fake child was encased in ice—she may not be able to do things that Saya seemed able to do with little effort, but she was still skilled with her chosen element and disliked making any type of tell that would alert her opponent to what she was doing.

She stood, the leather skirt that she had made out of the leathers that Kiara had tanned years ago swirling around her ankles, and took a step closer to the demon. She leaned in close, her lips just brushing Kiara's false lips.

"You should know," she began softly, one hand stroking the demon's frozen arm almost softly, Kiara's dark eyes lightening to glowing purple and staying focused on Morrigan's half-lidded golden eyes. "I always get what I want."

With that declaration, Morrigan denoted the magic she had oh-so-carefully injected into its body through her strokes and smiled as the demon exploded.

She was still smiling as she woke though that soon dropped as she found herself nose to Elion's dagger.

"You're not possessed," the damn elf muttered almost disappointedly as he regretfully sheathed his dagger with a sad sigh. "Oh well," a mean smirk crossed his lips, "there's always next time."

"Never," she hissed at him as he stood and he just smirked down at her.

"Never say never," he told her almost smugly and with a hint of twisted hope before he swaggered back to his sister.

Truly, Kiara better get a strong handle of her pets before Morrigan had to do something she wouldn't regret.

* * *

Andra's hand tightened against the handle of her sword—her family's sword—and gritted her teeth as she forcefully kept tears at bay. Like she was truly coping with her family being dead—murdered, massacred, betrayed—before this trip to the Fade. Now, instead of being grief-stricken, she was enraged that someone—something more like—had decided to use those memories against her and put her into the place of murderer.

She was nearly vibrating with the need to kill the demon in front her, she had no patience to give any comments—biting or otherwise—to it, all she wanted to do was kill it. But she was holding herself back through sheer force of will as her companions exchanged words with the demon, the monster.

"Oi, Fucker," an enraged voice shouted and heads snapped to see Kiara striding towards them with Saya and Malika trailing behind her, wary looks of both of their faces. "No one fucks with my mind, no one!"

Andra had thought she had seen Kiara in almost every mood during the years that they had spent together, obviously she was wrong. She had never seen Kiara enraged like she was at that moment.

Andra was barely able to enjoy the view of the demon flinching back away from Kiara with what looked like fear before she lashed out.

Her blade gleamed wickedly in the strange light of the Fade before it was thrust deep into the demon's chest making it scream out in shock and pain.

"My mind is off fucking limits!" she snarled, her voice almost inhuman, as she slashed and stabbed again and again with fury in every move, drawing more high-pitched inhuman screams. "It's mine! Mine! Fuck off and die! No one touches my mind!"

She was vicious in her blows and Andra stepped forward only slightly but enough for Kiara to catch out of the corner of her eye.

"Fuck, Andra, you just going to stand there or do you want your own shot?"

Andra barely hesitated as Kiara moved back, her face twisted in sheer rage and hatred, before she was striding towards the pitiful form of the bleeding demon. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes scanning and considering.

She unsheathed her sword and swung it easily, removing the head from his mutant shoulders.

Kiara made an annoyed and disgusted noise as she kicked the head away from them.

"I should have spent more time on him before letting you have him," she decided grimly. "Should've made the bastard bleed and suffer more. No one messes with my mind, no one."

Andra glanced at her long-time friend and mentor, Kiara was covered in demon blood and her pretty face was twisted into an ugly mask of hatred and hate as she stared down at the headless body of the demon.

"You did it," it was blandly stated with a note of surprise.

The Tower Mage, the one that had lost hope long before meeting them, had appeared and Andra absently glanced back to see both Wynne and Leona talking to him in hushed voices.

* * *

_AN: Yeah, it's very anticlimactic, sorry but I'm crap at fighting scenes. Sorry it's been so long, but real life has been catching up to be recently and I've been attempting to write my own original story without doing a hint of writing as I've hit a major writers block._

_Anyway, chapter seventeen has been replaced with some bios for those that asked and I'm wondering already where you readers would like 'me' to end up next?_


	22. Chapter 22

Alistair almost shivered as he glanced over to where Kiara was stood over the cooling body of the pride Abomination with a look on her face as if she was considering how it's head would look on her wall.

She had already been covered in the clotting red blood of the blood-mages that she had taken down and the Abominations she had killed, but now she was covered with more Abomination black blood than anything else. Her rage from the Fade hadn't been completely doused after she killed the Sloth demon so she had unleashed it on the mage that had caused all of this.

The fact that the mage had obviously been working with Loghain made it hard for Alistair to pull up any feelings of sympathy. A surprisingly cold side of him—a side that had been slowly and quietly growing since the Wilds and Lothering when he had found out about Loghain's betrayal and then how he was blaming them for his crimes—said that he didn't deserve any sympathy as he had chosen his side and it was against them.

He glanced over at the huddle of Tower mages, Irving and his fellow senior mages were shaken—not that he blamed them as they had been tortured for who knows how long—as Wynne talked to them softly. Leona had already gone back to the trapped Templar, Cullen, she had barely waited to make sure everyone was in one piece before she fled down the stairs.

Malika was sat on her hunches as she talked to Faren softly with Sten standing guard—the Qunari seemed to have gained a new level of loyalty for the red-haired dwarf that was different from the small amount of loyalty that Sten only gave because Faren had freed him and it made him wonder what had happen during the Fade for this to happen.

"She can be very scary, huh?" Alistair almost flinched, his hand tightening around his sword, as Andra suddenly spoke up—he hadn't even noticed her next to him—and glanced down at the slight woman. "Kiara?" she prompted when he looked almost confused and automatically he glanced to where Kiara who had been joined by her own Qunari, Saya. "She was my teacher for a time," she continued softly, "I had thought I had seen every side of her."

Andra's tone suggested that she hadn't and she was almost as unbalanced as Alistair was at the depth of Kiara's rage towards the Sloth demon and his dreams. Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort and Andra smiled up at him—it was a different smile then the one she had shown towards others, a real smile—and Alistair's mind couldn't help going back to his dream about living with Goldanna and Andra as his wife because that was like the smile that she had given him in his dream.

He coughed uncomfortably, horribly aware of the flush creeping up his neck, and as he looked away, dearly hoping that the blood on his face covered his blush.

* * *

"Kiara!" Vala's yelp was shocked and panicked making Morrigan looked up swiftly, heart racing, and then cursed herself for being so worried when she realised it was only because of the amount of blood covering Kiara that had gotten the elf so shocked—some of it could have been Kiara's, Morrigan knew but not as much as she was wearing because Kiara wouldn't be walking at that moment if that was true.

"It's not mine," Kiara called back to the young elf, infuriatingly calm before she looked down at her bloodied-self with a grimace—seemingly only realising what a state she was in, something Morrigan didn't almost smile at because it did not remind her off when Kiara would come back to their home, proudly showing of her newest catch while covered in blood before realising why Morrigan didn't look impressed. "I think anyway."

Ellana let out a long suffering sigh as she pushed herself to her feet and made her way towards her leader, hand outstretched and already glowing with healing magic.

"You need to take better care of yourself," Ellana chided softly making Morrigan snort softly—the apostate ignored the narrowed-eyed look she received from Elion and Malika because of said sound.

Honestly, she had been trying to teach Kiara the very same thing years ago and was only successful in teaching her how to take care of her wounds and blend potions and such to aid in the healing—things Morrigan had been pleased to note hadn't slipped despite Kiara having a 'capable' healer with her.

The damned elf and dwarf wasn't the only one who heard her as Kiara glanced over, that sheepish smile on her face already—a smile she had been given many times in the past and that was still the same despite the years that had passed.

(If Morrigan was still set on showing her anger and—dare she even think it—hurt, it would have been maddening to realise how little Kiara had really changed in the years they had been parted. But it didn't, because it meant that it didn't matter how long had passed for Kiara hadn't changed much and Morrigan_ knew_ Kiara. As she told that demon, she always got what she wanted.)

Morrigan's eyes narrowed slightly as she witnessed a shadow pass over Kiara's face as she looked away from her and stood, striding quickly over towards Kiara and ignoring the protective bristling of Kiara's dear companions. She aborted a movement to touch Kiara, but knew that the older woman saw as the corner of Kiara's lips twitched upwards very briefly before her lips returned to an almost bitter and angry line.

"What's wrong?" Morrigan demanded more then ask, but there was a hint of softness to her tone though by the way the damn dwarf was bristling, mouth opening in outrage, it obviously wasn't that clear.

"I don't like people messing with my head," Kiara cut off her companion, a dark look in her eyes as her fists clenched under Morrigan's intense stare.

"Is it dead?" Morrigan asked and Kiara barred her teeth in a full out dark grin which told her all she needed to know. "Good," she then pointedly sniffed at Kiara, "you'll need to have a wash after we leave you stink, my dear."

Malika let out a soft growl and Kiara laughed, the shadows leaving her eyes just slightly.

"Of course, your majesty, I'll be right on that," Kiara teased lightly, not fully back to herself but able to tease Morrigan over the old title that Kiara had gifted her when they were but children and life was simpler—without stupid elves, damn dwarfs and overprotective Qunari's getting in the way of them and a Blight wasn't nipping at their heels.

* * *

"Will you be okay?" Melima's first question was very telling to Andra who was brought up in the only port in Ferelden that actually did business with the Orlesians and were used to their double-worded conversations.

It was telling that Melima asked if she would be okay instead of being okay as it obviously meant that Melima already knew that Andra wasn't okay, something that Andra had been almost certain that she had masked—well she had masked it better than Kiara, who still oozed with rage despite her smile and teasing remarks and was given a wide berth from everyone that wasn't a Companion or Morrigan.

Andra smiled slightly which made Melima almost glare at her from where she stood, almost hovering, beside and Andra let it drop—smiles didn't come easy to her anymore and fake smiles tested her more than ever.

"I will be," Andra reassured her worried friend, idly wondering what her mother would say if she could see her daughter friends with a Dalish elf and other such colourful characters.

Probably along the same line that she had said when Bryce allowed Kiara to teach Andra to wield a dagger and throw it with deadly accuracy—that had been the first and last time that Andra had ever heard her mother raise her voice and actually swear.

"Let's get out of here," Andra raised her voice slightly to be heard and some of the tension in Kiara's shoulders lessened—Andra hadn't realised just how tightly tensed her old mentor was till then.

Yes, leaving would be the best thing for them.

* * *

_And that was hopefully the end of my associate with the Tower. Irving was saved, Cullen protested, I got Ellana to attempt to magically attack the mages and none of them turned into deformed beings so Gregoir was reassured, Wynne joined us with her patented disapproving look already directed at our group of merry companions and towards Lendanis—who had made it plain that she wasn't returning to the Tower when this was all over—and we left. _

_After another knee-weakening and stomach upsetting—yes, I had a weak stomach when it came to crossing water, but we all had our own Achilles' heel—we were back on the other side of the lake and entering the Inn that Oghern's lady friend—and future wife/mother of his child—worked at._

_God, I just realised that I would have to deal with both Malika and Oghern's drinking for the foreseeable future. It wasn't a good thought._

* * *

Kiara sighed happily as she leaned back against the cooper bath, she knew that however long she lived—which knowing her would either be a hell of a long time or forever—that she would never take a hot bath for granted.

It was of course her second bath, the first was spent just scrubbing the blood from her skin and out of her hair—she was almost convinced that she had left a ring of red in the bath—while this was just so she could relax and wallow as happily as a pig in muck as her mother used to say.

"You certainly look better," Morrigan suddenly commented and she didn't even twitch—Kiara had heard the click of her door being opened and the whisper of bare-feet on the wooden floor. "Let's hope you smell as good as you look."

"Hush," Kiara teased, tilting her head back so she could see Morrigan striding towards her—an oddly resolved look on her angular features. "You'll make me blush."

Morrigan snorted as she came to the side of the bath, long pale fingers drawing lines on the water.

"Tis surprisingly clear for the amount of blood that you wore," Morrigan commented, golden gaze lifting to her own dark gaze.

"It's called a second bath," Kiara mused, staying relaxed as she watched Morrigan—she had come for a reason and Kiara knew it was best to let Morrigan do it at her own pace.

"Hmm," Morrigan hummed softly and to Kiara's shock, she reached up and slid the sleeves of her slip off her shoulder and letting it pool around her feet.

"Morrigan….?" For the first time in a long time, Kiara felt uncertain as she watched Morrigan almost casually let down her hair and watching as the inky black locks fall part way down her back and rest over her perky breasts.

"I had a dream," Morrigan began almost abruptly, one hand bracing on the rim of the bath and Kiara moved back as she understood what Morrigan was about to do. "Demons are so inconsiderate."

Kiara almost smiled because that was a strange thing for Morrigan to moan about as Morrigan stepped into the bath almost daintily and settled down in the warm water with a small exhale that could be called a sigh.

"Horrible inconsiderate things," Kiara said with some humour when Morrigan looked pointedly at her and Morrigan huffed as she leaned back against the warm copper.

"You're humour isn't appreciated," Morrigan told her dryly and Kiara laughed almost awkwardly, feeling horribly like what she imagined a teenage boy felt when confronted with their first naked woman and trying not to stare at their breasts.

For fuck sake, she wasn't a blushing virgin and she had seen tits before. She had a pair herself, she lived with Raven and Emma Frost who had no shame about walking around naked when there wasn't impressable 'children' about—Charles' rule—and had shared showers with over women before. Why was this so different?

"I'm sorry," Kiara took a sombre expression which just made Morrigan glare at her for a moment. "Continue, my dear."

"A demon attempted to tempt me with something I supposedly couldn't have," Morrigan scoffed, telling Kiara exactly what she thought about that thought. "Of course I corrected them, by telling them I always got what I wanted before I destroyed it."

"A bold statement," Kiara commented, watching as Morrigan shifted slightly in the water. "And what is it that you were shown that you want so much?"

A smirk crossed Morrigan lips before she reached forward and cupped Kiara's cheek.

"You," the mage told her simply before brushing her lips against hers.

Kiara had first kisses before, she suspected that her very first kiss had been as awkward as everyone else's, but she hadn't been kissed like she was being now. No one had ever kissed her so gently before and it seemed at odds with what she thought of Morrigan.

The mage began to pull back but Kiara wrapped one hand in her dark locks and pulled her close, pressing her lips firmly against hers for one moment, one long moment, before pulling back and leaning her forehead against Morrigan's.

"If we do this," Kiara began softly, trailing her free hand down Morrigan's long neck, caressing her shoulder before cupping one of Morrigan's breast and brushing the nipple with her thumb, making the younger woman's breath hitch slightly. "I won't let you go."

Morrigan chuckled, a husky and deep chuckle that sent a shiver down Kiara's spine.

"Who says I'd be letting you go?" Morrigan pressed a kiss against Kiara's forehead before dropping down and kissing her neck making Kiara's breath hitch—she had always loved her neck being kissed. "I'm very possessive of my things."

Kiara pinched the nipple making Morrigan hiss before kissing the sting away.

"I'm not a thing," she protested mildly.

"Of course, dear," Morrigan muttered before taking Kiara's lips with her own, staking a claim that Kiara didn't protest against as she pulled Morrigan closer.

* * *

**AN: And that's another chapter. Morrigan and Kiara are finally 'together' and that is my steamiest scene ever. Hope you like it and I didn't mess it up. Please review and give me your thoughts. **


	23. Chapter 23

There was something undeniable smug about Morrigan as she came down for breakfast, Malika decided with narrowed eyes as she munched on some warm bread. She didn't trust Morrigan's mood, it didn't bode well for them.

"What is she so happy about?" Elion muttered under his breath as he reached for the tank of tea and poured himself a mug with a slight grimace—he didn't like tea but it woke him up in the morning like nothing else and was one of the reasons that they bothered to buy tea leaves every now and again—before pouring a mug for Ellana—who actually liked the stuff and thus was another reason to buy it.

"Perhaps she just had a good night?" Vala offered—thankfully she got over whatever timidity she had before and was actually showing why Kiara had decided she should be part of the Companions—and Malika snorted into her ale making Ellana glare at her.

"Malika," Ellana warned and Malika refrained from rolling her eyes—may the Maker and all the alcohol in the world help them if Ellana ever had a child, if she was already this protective over a younger member of the Companions then the child wouldn't even be able to cut its' own meat without her hovering like a hawk and making sure it hadn't hurt itself.

"Where is Kiara?" Saya's question bought Malika up short and made her blink because she hadn't seen Kiara since last night—truthfully Malika had been too 'busy' with Faren last night to worry about any of the Companions let alone Kiara.

"I….don't actually know," Elion frowned thoughtfully, fingering the earring that attached him to Kiara in slight worry. "She's still in the Inn."

Vala and Ellana both glanced at where Morrigan had settled herself at a table and shared a look of understanding over the table that made Malika bristle.

"What?" Malika demanded, glaring over at Morrigan. "Did she do something to Kiara?"

Saya straightened even more in her chair and glared at the Wilds' mage while Elion scowled at his sister.

"In a manner of speaking," Vala actually snorted before she busied herself with her breakfast when Ellana gave her a warning glance.

"Sister," Elion said with warning and Ellana smiled at him.

"Don't worry," she said almost breezily. "Everything is fine."

Elion narrowed his eyes because there was something in her tone that reminded him of something.

"Oh Elgar'nan no," he groaned as he worked it out.

"What?" Malika demanded.

"Please tell me she hasn't," Elion near begged making Ellana smile at him brilliantly. "Oh Mythal she has."

"What?" Malika repeated with rising impatience. "Would someone tell me what the pissing hell is going on?"

Vala was laughing into her mug and Saya's hands had clenched slightly before loosening with an almost defeated sigh.

"It seems," Saya began as Elion muttered and stabbed at his sausages—a treat he wasn't going to waste though he was stabbing at it. "That Kiara has entered a relationship with Morrigan."

"What the pissing hell?!" Malika almost yelled.

From her place, Morrigan smirked.

* * *

_I was surrounded by the most exasperating people—and I wouldn't have it any other way._

* * *

Andra didn't even twitch away from her intense study of the map at Malika's yell—yelling was something you had to get used to if you spent time with the Companions and she had long learnt to ignore it—though Alistair flinched slightly and looked over warily.

"Ignore them," Melima muttered to Alistair over the table, frowning as she considered which clans would still be in Brecilian Forest—most, like her clan, would have already fled northwards and away from the approaching Blight. "Malika isn't pleased with Kiara's new bed-mate."

Alistair looked curious until he noticed that Malika was glaring solely at Morrigan then he made a disgusted face—truthfully Alistair didn't understand the appeal of Morrigan, yes she was a striking beauty but she had the personality of scorpion—before turning back to the map where Andra had placed simply carved pieces at different places on the map of Ferelden.

"Hopefully the people of Lothering had made it to the Bannorns," Andra muttered softly, pushing the small discs that represented the people of Lothering to spread out across the Bannorn—it was something she told the Revered Mother and the Knight-Captain to do before they left Lothering for the Circle and hoped they had enough sense to do so. "It would better to go to Orzammar as we're closer to the Dwarven Kingdom then we are to Redcliffe."

Sereda grimaced at the name of her old home—she wasn't yet certain if she was ready to return home and face her little brother and father—while Alistair frowned.

"Arl Eamon would help call a Landsmeet," Alistair reminded Andra and she nodded thoughtfully—she had hoped some of the Highever soldiers had parted from Loghain and headed to Redcliffe and it seemed she would see if it was true.

Highever soldiers knew her and knew that she would never let anyone, let alone the famed Wardens, betray the Crowned King of Ferelden.

"Yes, but he seems to be very ill and Loghain—as well as the other nobles—won't respond to his Arlessa calling for a Landsmeet," she told him as she rested her chin on her interlocked fingers and stared down at map, truly it had been his blood-tie to the royal family that stopped him from suffering from too much backlash when he married an Orlesian and no Fereldan noble would heed the call of who they considered an Orlesian upstart, even if she had spent over a decade in Ferelden and had birthed a heir for one of their Arlings—the Fereldan people held their grudges well. "Though with Arl Eamon's illness, Bann Teagan could have possibly come to lend his brother and sister-in-law aid. He is perhaps more respected then Arl Eamon." If only because he hadn't taken an Orlesian bride.

Andra grimaced behind her hands, part of her wanted to forget the treaties and the Blight and march on Highever but she had a duty to do. Duty before revenge. She had been able to warn the Alienage—through one of the elves that had escaped from Howe's men's slaughter—about Howe betrayal and was certain that they had fled to the Waking Sea, hopefully following the coast to the Storm Coast or hired a boat to take them to one of the islands off the shore of Fereldan that no one had yet claimed as their own—she wasn't going to let Howe sell her people into slavery after sampling the 'wares'—and knew that the elves would have informed the people of Highever before they left. Highever was strong, they would survive Howe's rule until Andra could free them. She couldn't be selfish and let her country be overrun by the Blight just because she wanted revenge.

Though it would be easier to go to Orzammar, they needed to go to Redcliffe and hopefully get the political movement going which would hopefully distract Loghain from hunting them more doggedly—something Andra was surprised wasn't happening at that moment. That would bring another problem though, either the Arl or the Bann would have to champion another for the throne—Anora was a good peace-time ruler, but this was war and she had already given the throne to her father, it would be best to replace her especially if she had any inkling of what her father had been planning.

As a Cousland, Andra could be championed as the next Queen but that was before Howe had disgraced her family as traitors. The Cousland had strong blood-ties to the Theirin and thus had a claim to the throne, a claim that was almost forced into their hands when Calian had inherited the throne as many nobles didn't believe the Crowned Prince was ready or fit to lead the Kingdom.

That could be one reason that Loghain most likely sanctioned the massacre of her family—Howe was a coward and would have never attacked unless he was certain he wouldn't be punished for his crimes and instead praised for them.

She sighed deeply as a headache pounded in her head and rubbed her temples—she wished that Duncan was here, that Duncan was leading them and not her, she wished her father was here so he could help her, she wished her mother was here so she could make sure that Andra didn't push herself too hard and she wished her brother was here to lend her his strength. But wishing for things didn't make them happen and the bottom line was that they were either dead or most likely dead and she had to do this, she had to lead them.

She opened her blue eyes and felt relief in her chest as she watched Sereda, Melima and Alistair plan out the best route to Redcliffe, listened to the scrapping of bowls of their companions and fellow Wardens and the disgruntled muttering of the actual Companions. She wasn't alone and for that she was truly thankful.

* * *

Faren grimaced as he looked up at Sten—the big Qunari looked as defeated as he would let himself—and he hated bloody fuckin' scavengers—Dust Town was filled with them after all and they circled like deep-stalkers just waiting for a hint of weakness.

"We'll find your sword," Faren promised him and Sten just nodded slightly, unconvinced . "Come on Big Guy, let's get some more breakfast—I'm starved."

Sten's lips twitched slightly in amusement as he followed after the dwarf—Grey Wardens seemed to be always hungry.

Faren paused as he entered the inn and stared for a moment as Malika seemed torn between glaring at Morrigan and pouting at Kiara—who was sat with the Wilds' mage instead of the Companions which was unusual but not that odd—before he decided he didn't want to know.

It was a fool's thought he knew as he knew that Malika would tell him eventually—it didn't matter if he wanted to know or not, she'd still tell him because they were in a 'relationship'.

Rica would be laughing if she was told how her brother had willingly entered a relationship with a woman. Faren found he didn't mind as much as he thought he would as Malika was rather easy to be with.

"Faren," Malika pouted at him and he almost sighed as he made his way over to her—it seemed he was going to be told sooner rather the later.

Relationships were so demanding sometimes, but hey, the sex was great so he wasn't complaining—much anyway.

* * *

They were probably half-way to Redcliffe when they stopped for the night and set up camp. Kiara had offered to go hunting with Melima and Elion; she came back with her prize and called Faren over to where she set up near her shared tent with Morrigan.

Faren could admit that Kiara could strike an imitating figure on the best of days, seeing her trying to be imitating could have made a lesser man piss himself. Faren couldn't pull his gaze from the sight of Kiara calmly pulling guts out of one of those giant rams that seemed to infect above ground as much a nugs and deep-stalkers infected the below with blood staining her arms up to her elbow.

No one should look that calm with all that blood, no woman should be that unfazed at having blood under their nails, but Kiara didn't looked bothered, she didn't wince or wrinkle her nose like the others did when they had to gut animals to feed them or when they realised just how much blood they had spilled in a battle—Kiara never did, she made sure her enemies were firmly dead before she took in the blood that stained her and then looked more annoyed then disgusted.

"I was sixteen when I first met Malika," Kiara began idly, removing the organs from the ram and dropping them with a disgusting plop into a bucket. "And since then she has been like a sister to me."

Ahh, Faren finally understood why Kiara had beckoned him over only to make him watch her in near silent for over five minutes. He was getting the protective sibling talk, he could respect that, by the fuckin' stone he wanted to give one to Rica's fuckin' fancy noble and perhaps he may have if the nug-shit that was the Proving didn't happen.

"From what I know of Dust Town," she continued as she finished with the organs and then reached for one of the legs, she twisted it until it snapped then proceeded to cut off the hoof before reaching for another one—it made him flinch slightly at the sound of bones snapping and breaking while just a flicker of distaste finally broke her blank mask. "You've probably not had experience with proper relationships, a relationship like the one that Malika wants from you, so I have this advice for you—learn quickly."

She looked up at him with volcanic eyes and he swallowed at the clear threat in her gaze.

"Because if you hurt her—hurt her enough to make her cry—then you better hope she kills you first," she told him flatly. "Because otherwise I'll make what I did to that pissing demon look like a mercy to what I will do to you."

And Faren believed her.


	24. Chapter 24

They were just entering what was officially the Hinterlands when Zevran decided to show up with his lack-lustre ambush.

Kiara tried very hard not to sigh as the tree fell and blocked off the path and half-a-dozen bandits and such showed themselves before she leaned against the tree and tugged Morrigan next to her.

The younger woman scowled slightly but didn't move from Kiara's side and actually relaxed into it as the Companions settled in and watched the Wardens fight—Elion perching on the trunk, bow in hand just in case, with Ellana sat next to him and helping Vala onto the trunk and settle beside her, Malika plopping on the ground and leaning against the tree and Saya leaning against the tree between Malika and Kiara.

"Isn't that a Crow?" Malika asked with little interest, her gaze fixed more on her warden lover then the assassin with the very familiar mask attached to his belt.

"He's not very good, is he?" Elion made a scoffing sound deep in his throat as he watched the display, though he couldn't help but admire the way the little crow bent and leaned to gracefully dodge strikes directed towards him—what? It had been a long time since he had sex! Fighting against the Blight and working with considered traitors made it hard to find someone to relieve that itch.

"They are assassins', brother," Ellana remained him softly. "They aren't suited for actual group combat."

One on one combat would have been better for the assassin Ellana knew, but the best way for an assassin to fight is by not fighting at all and just being a shadow in the night. Honestly, Ellana didn't know what the other elf was thinking attacking them as a group in broad daylight—did he have a death-wish or something?

Saya chuckled as a dome of ice formed to protect them from stray arrows while Kiara kept her free hand on one of her hilts as she watched intently—something about the smile on her face and the look in her eyes kept any of the ground fighters away from the Companions.

"Are you sure he's one of the famed Crows?" Vala frowned, a strangely disappointed look as Faren tackled Zevran to the ground and bashed his head with the butt of his dagger to Malika's whoop of delight and a shouted; 'that's my man!' as if anyone doubted that. "I was expecting more."

"He's just a fledging," Kiara dismissed easily—Zevran had nothing against the Crows that had been sent against her and she had sent back nor the Crows that she had worked with. "A fledging that has bitten off more than he can chew, but still a fledging can be useful if directed and taught right."

"We're adopting another one?" Malika jested as Morrigan stiffened slightly.

"Perhaps," Kiara shrugged slightly, pulling Morrigan a bit closer and pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the mage relaxed ever so slightly but still glared at the soon to be bound Crow. "It depends what our young Wardens chose to do with him."

* * *

Zevran didn't know if the Arl Howe and 'King' Loghain had been willingly duplicitous or they just didn't know just how many Wardens had actually survived, either way Zevran thought he may be a little out of his league before one of the dwarves—surprisingly fast for such a stocky frame—tackled him and began to attempt to bash his brains out—really it was rather rude—and Zev thought it would be the most prudent thing to surrender to unconsciousness.

He was shocked awake by a blast of cold air that made all the hair on his body stand on end—and he had thought Ferelden had been cold enough before!—with his head banging and the sticky feel of blood matting his hair to his face. He attempted to move his hands to cradle his head, moaning and groaning more dramatically than needed but saved him time, and realised that his hands were bound—quite professionally he may add, obviously at least one of the Wardens had a dubious past then.

A sharp steel blade was placed under his chin and nudged his face up—they really should be careful of his handsome face, it was one of his best weapons if he could humbly admit—and his amber eyes meet the cool blue gaze of what had to be the leader of this little group of Wardens.

A human woman, born a noble but trained a warrior—interesting and most odd, but Ferelden was known for their strange customs and their peculiar love of dogs. Dark brown hair—used to rich oils and such most likely—was showing some signs of neglect though was clean and brushed out of her face and pulled into a simple ponytail. Her face was clear of any makeup and free of imperfections—obviously she was either very good at protecting her face, or her previous enemy hadn't aimed for such a pretty face which was good, it would be shame for such a pretty face to be scarred most likely horrifically—and showed nobility more than her stance or careful mask of indifference—only nobles had such clear complexions as they were far from the diseased streets of the holds they managed.

Tough iron armour and mail covered her form—probably nothing like the armour she was used to. The guard of sword was designed to look like laurels and curled to protect her hand, the pommel had an emerald and sapphire as a weight, the shield that she had stabbed in the ground next to her had the golden laurels outlined with a deep blue.

Zev smiled charmingly up at her, the last living Cousland, and was only mildly disappointed that she just narrowed her eyes at him instead of softening like most noble girls and women did when he smiled at them—but of course, they had been Anvitan, Orlesian and Rivaini ladies more easily flattered then Ferelden women he had come to realise very quickly. The Fereldans bred a different type of woman.

"I rather thought I would wake up dead, or not wake up at all as the case maybe," he begin his speech. "But I see you haven't killed me yet."

"That could swiftly change," a dwarf spoke up, her face grim, not the dwarf that had taken him down in the end.

Pretty features for a dwarf—nose surprisingly petite—and no brand meant that she was a Caste dwarf. The stance she held herself in said she was from a noble House. Her golden hair and blue eyes weren't common amongst the dwarves, and was mostly seen in the noble families which just added to his theory that she was a noble's daughter. Trained as a warrior, could speak so obviously not one of the Silent Sisters.

Zevran hadn't heard of a House being exiled to the surface—which was always news—and noble Castes were notorious for hording their daughters so it was strange to see one on their own.

The dwarf who had tackled him—brand with uncommonly bright fire red hair, sure with his blades, most likely a Carta thug before the Wardens either recruited him or he asked to join them to stop any execution befalling him—didn't count as no noble House would consider one of the Casteless good enough to play shield-brother to their daughter as a Warden.

"Ooh, you're rather an aggressive little minx, aren't you?" Zevran was very tempted to wink but was sure the little noble would actually kill him while the lady noble wouldn't blink an eye—the human noble had a hard look in her eyes that he recognised. "Lovely, too."

The redheaded dwarf snickered slightly and was rewarded with a blow to his lightly armoured arm by the little noble, who scowled at him—a surprisingly lack of distaste and hate considering she was a noble and he was a brand.

"But if its questions you're planning on asking me, let me save you a little time and get right to the point, yes?"

He almost wanted to snicker at the flummoxed look that appeared on the blonde Templar-looking man and the redheaded dwarf but decided not to because talking kept him alive.

"My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends"—a courtesy that would endear him to them—"I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

Well not really, if he was to be honest with himself. He hadn't expected to succeed, he hadn't expected to live after his little skirmish and found himself wanting to live since he was still alive. Odd how he had come to die and yet now wanted to live.

"We're rather happy that you did," a Dalish muttered to the noble lady, making those pink lips twitch just the slightest before returning to her mask, and didn't those facial tattoos take him back to the rather dim memories of his mother?

Lovely darkly toned skin—almost reminded him of home—and stunning green eyes. But young, very young, and Zevran wondered if the Wardens were aware of the near-child in their midst. Even if she had earned her vallaslin—to the humans that meant little.

"As would I be, in your shoes," he allowed with a smile making green eyes just more wary—honestly you'd think he had done something unforgivable to them, he had only attempted to kill them in a strictly business and non-personal way. "However it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by the target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career."

"Well that's too bad for you," a blonde elf scoffed as she leaned against her staff with a red head woman next to him also carrying a staff.

Mages, probably newly made Enchanters, obviously from Ferelden's only Magi Tower considering their accent. Muscles just hardening into actual muscles instead of lean fat, new to the outside world, and prone to catching the sun on their ears and nose. The redhead stood slightly behind her elven friend—most likely the healer of the pair—and the elf stood with confidence from knowing that she could defend herself and her friend. Interesting.

"Yes, it's true," he sighed sadly and shook his head. "Too bad for me."

"So who are these Antivan Crows?" the brand dwarf asked almost curiously, rubbing some blood—Zev had a funny feeling that it was his blood—from the hilt from one of his dagger into a scrap of blue—Warden blue, he noted—cloth.

"I can answer that," a red head, daggers at her waist and bow over her shoulder, spoke with an Orlesian accent—a Bard most likely. "The Antivan Crows are an elite order of assassins from Antiva. Very powerful and renowned for always getting the job done—so to speak. Someone went to a great expense to hire this man."

Yes, the little red Orlesian was a bard, Zev had no doubt about that. She was pretty, had a nice lilting voice that Zev was sure made her into a nice little song-bird that would make all the nobles in Orlais want her despite knowing that the little song bird could be spying or planning to kill them—it would be very exciting for them no doubt.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of us before," Zev remarked lightly—Orzammar was probably aware of the Crows, but they didn't need outside help to kill their rivals and they didn't need a visible sign pointing at them when said rival turned up dead. "We are very famous for helping in politics."

"Ferelden values loyalty and honesty above all else," the Cousland spoke drily and Zev was tempted to shake his head—what a strange kingdom he had come to, but it was swiftly becoming his type of kingdom since Ostagar and the untimely death of their king.

"I've heard of the Crows," a soft voice spoke up then and Zev carefully leaned around the group of Wardens to peer at the group he had discounted as unimportant and almost bit his tongue to keep his string of curses from leaving his mouth. "We've had some business in the past."

Kiara of the Companions was staring back at him with amused dark eyes and Zev, for the first time in what felt like years, felt the hand of fear tickle down his back. He had only seen the woman once—once was enough to sear her image and name into his memory—years back when the Companions were still in the Free Marches and the Companions were near the height of their power in Kirkwall.

She had come to Antiva with her pet Qunari—who he noted was still loyally be her side—and sprung a meeting on the Masters of the Crows—something never done before and would probably never be done again.

She had been quite put out that the Crows had been attempting to kill her on the order of some Free Marcher noble and decided she was going to put a stop of it.

Zev remembered how amused he had been, nudging Talisesen and laughed while Rinna had watched seemingly bored—that had been when she simply said her Qunari's name and the tall ox-woman dropped the bugling sack on the floor.

It had spilled open and heads had rolled out—the humour went out of the room faster than a candle being blown out—and each had feathers carved around their eyes in the mockery of the Crow's herald—because everything has a herald.

Zevran would always remember the smile that spread across Kiara's lips as the blood drained from the Masters' faces as they stared at the dozen heads that kept spilling out of the sack.

It was the same smile that she wore as she noticed him glance at the dark haired mage held so possessively and protectively against her, the smile that said 'don't even try to fuck with me because I will kill you brutally'.

Zev found himself hoping that the Wardens killed him after all in that moment—he did not want to spend time in close quarters, in a matter of speaking, with someone that had made the Masters' pale and shake with fear.

* * *

**AN: Here's another chapter for you and I have questions for you, my loyal readers. What pairings beside from Kiara/Morrigan, Faren/Malika and Alistair/Andra do you want to see? Should I add more Companions to the story? And if so, who do you think should join the Companions and they can be a canon character or a oc.  
**

**Also how many of you would like to see Kiara in the Harry Potter world? That has been suggested to me as the next world I tackle and I want to know your thoughts and if you had a preferred time she would appear in and just what crowd she would fall into and became protective of?**

**Anyway, I hoped you enoyed the chapter and the next chapter will probably be the madness that is Redcliffe.**


	25. Chapter 25

"We're not actually keeping _him_?!" Alistair's voice was raised with incredible shock which halted all the setting up of camp—apparently it would be best to recover fully before tackling whatever problem Redcliffe faced as Andra was convinced that something would be wrong there and Kiara didn't even bother to give her false reassertions. "He tried to kill us!"

"It was only business," Zevran shrugged almost idly as Andra rubbed her temples.

"We're not keeping him," she finally said and Sereda looked up with narrowed eyes.

"Does that mean we are killing him?" the dwarf asked easily and Alistair looked torn—he obviously didn't like the idea of the assassin with them but he also wasn't comfortable just killing him.

Kiara almost sighed, he was too soft-hearted still but Kiara knew, hoped, that it would change before the Blight was over and he found himself in the throne—because Alistair would be king and Andra his queen even if he had yet to give her that rose he had been fiddling with the last two nights though he had glanced over at her with love-sick eyes. The sappiness of it all had apparently made Morrigan feel sick and Kiara had spent most of the night making her feel better.

"No," Andra said firmly and Sereda opened her mouth to argue that they couldn't let him go when the noble continued. "Kiara is keeping him."

"WHAT?" Three different voice chorused as Kiara leaned back against Morrigan's legs—her dark haired mage was currently studying the black tome that Kiara had swiped from the Tower—and smiled slightly as long fingers tangled briefly in her loose hair before going to flick to another page, slim dark brows furrowed slightly as Morrigan read the elven language that Flemeth wrote in—not that anyone seemed to be aware that it was elven.

Zevran, Alistair and Malika were all staring at Andra with varied shades of shock and a hint of horror in Zevran's face.

Interesting, Kiara idly thought, she hadn't even done something to the elf and yet he looked like she was going to be his killer—which she could be if he tried to betray them.

"Elion," Kiara's voice cut through the protests of the three and the golden elf looked up from where he was easing an arrow out of the ram's eye that he had taken down for dinner. "He's your problem."

A scowl brief creased his inked features before he glanced at Zevran with golden eyes and a look that Kiara knew well and she smirked—yes, Elion would make sure Zevran wasn't a problem.

"You know how to skin an animal?" Elion's voice was doubtful and Zevran's face was resigned yet slightly pleased as he made his way to the other male.

"Well," Zevran hesitated slightly as he glanced down at the large ram. "Not really."

Elion's scoff told all what he thought of that and Zevran's face tightened at the blow to his ego before he plopped down beside Elion with a determined look.

"But I am a fast learner," Zevran declared and Elion gave him a once over before he finished pulling the arrow out with a sickening sound.

"We'll see about that," was all her elf-boy said before he began to teach Zevran how to skin the ram so they could get to the meat and eat tonight.

"Are you playing match-maker with my brother?" Ellana's voice was low and amused where she and Vala was cutting up herbs and such to go with their meat and Kiara smiled at her friend.

"Of course not," she denied easily even if the thought of Elion and Zevran had crossed her mind briefly. "I just don't want to play baby-sitter for a little fledging."

Vala snorted, unconvinced, as Ellana stared at her for a brief moment before returning to her cutting.

"If he attempts to hurt my brother," Ellana began lightly. "I will kill him."

"I'll hold him down for you," Kiara promised reaching up and capturing one of Morrigan's hands to her sighed annoyance though Kiara smiled when Morrigan didn't attempt to reclaim it and pressed her smiling lips against the back of Morrigan's pale hand making Morrigan pause and lightly slap the back of her head in false annoyance.

Kara grinned up at her, lips still pressed to soft pale skin, as Morrigan returned to her book with a hint of a smile. Kiara always knew that Morrigan could be a real softie.

* * *

Alistair slopped up the gravy of the stew with the bread that Bodahn had stored in his cart—it was mostly hard and going onto stale, but with the gravy from the stew it was still delicious—and popped it in his mouth, only having to keep himself from choking on it as Kiara decided to sit on the log next to him.

He glanced over to the fire where the Companions—which now included Faren, Sten who was following the dwarf more, Zevran and Morrigan—and met the burning inhuman golden gaze of Morrigan, and felt a shiver trail down his spine.

Morrigan's eyes were too gold, too animal like to belong to a human, and that was made him so wary of her—that and her shining personality and their mutually dislike. He didn't know what her mother, Flemeth, had taught her and he didn't want to find out first hand either.

Morrigan had made very sure that everyone knew that Kiara was hers, if the sounds at night didn't show it then the marks of claiming that littered Kiara's neck did it. The Companions and Morrigan were in an uneasy truce at the moment and part of Alistair wanted to know how long that would last while another part didn't want to be there when it ended.

"So," Kiara began, her voice casual and low in a way that Alistair was sure was meant to put him at ease—it didn't. "Are you going to tell her that you fancy her? Or are going to wait till she knows who your daddy was and what the future with you means?"

Alistair's back cracked with how fast he straightened and stared at Kiara as she licked her fingers idly.

"What?" he choked out as he gaped at her and a cold sweat seemed to break out across his skin as he stared at her. "How do you…?"

"Know?" Kiara finished for him with a smirk and Alistair was startled to feel his blunt nails dig into his palms. "I met your father."

She shrugged like it was nothing, like meeting Maric meant nothing to her, and in that moment Alistair hated her and he envied her. How many times had he wished as a boy to meet his father? To talk to him? For him to acknowledge Alistair as his son? How many times had he wished to run away to Denerim when Isolde was cruel and be protected by his father?

And this woman, this woman in front of him, didn't seem to care that she had met his father, had talked to him in a way that Alistair was never allowed because the Theirin blood ran too strong to really hide. And meant he had to suffer because of Isolde's jealousy, had to listen to the cruel taunts of the other children for being a bastard that even his own father didn't want—and how many times he had wanted to scream at him that his father was King Maric and he would make them pay? How many times had Eamon gave him that disappointed look like he knew what Alistair was thinking?—and meant he had been kept to the kennels when he was finally allowed to go with Eamon to Denerim.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the painful feeling of his bones protesting under a strong grip.

"You better reconsider hitting me," Kiara's voice was lower and there was no casual tone to it. "Because I will not stop anyone from defending me."

Alistair shook his head and was almost appalled with how close he had probably come to hitting Kiara.

"What did you mean?" he choked out, trying to distract himself from his bitter thoughts. "About our future?"

Because thinking about Andra was safe, thinking about having a future with her nice, because Andra was a light in this dark world. But Kiara made it sound different, almost difficult, and Alistair didn't want that. He wanted a simple life with Andra.

"You are the last of your father's bloodline, the last living heir," she looked him right in the eyes as she spoke so he knew that she was serious. "You will take your father's place, your brother's place, and if you don't realise that by now then you are as stupid as Morrigan insists you are."

"Anora…." Alistair trailed off as he almost felt his stomach reject his dinner in horror and panic because she couldn't mean what he thought she meant.

"Anora is a good peace time ruler," Kiara acknowledged briefly before shaking him slightly so he was looking at her, looking into her serious dark eyes. "But she is Loghain Mic Tir's daughter, she isn't of Theirin blood, she is letting her father rule instead of her."

He shook his head in silent denial but Kiara was ruthless, she wouldn't leave him to his denial.

"Do you honestly believe that Arl Eamon will petition against Loghain and still let Loghain's daughter rule? The daughter of his rival? If need be, do you think he won't marry you to Anora if he believes it would be the best?"

Alistair almost reared backwards at the thought and the worse thing? Alistair could see Eamon doing that and he almost certainly would do as Kiara so ruthlessly pointed out.

"If you tell her, tell her your feelings and the truth, if you have a relationship you both want then you can be together, you can marry her and be together and there will be nothing that the Arl can do to stop you.

You won't have a simple life, you will be bound by duty, but you are a Grey Warden and you know all about duty. You will be together, you'll share it together, and by the Maker, if there is anyone who I trust to keep you from being manipulated into doing things and doing the best for you and Ferelden then it is that woman," she spoke with conviction and Alistair believed her—though he didn't need much convincing as he already thought that about Andra. "So man up and tell Andra how you feel, tell her the truth, build your relationship and get ready for your duty because it became your future the moment Cailan died."

Kiara took his bowl and pushed him so he stumbled off the log and looked at him sternly.

"Go on then," she nodded to where Andra was watching them, her blue eyes worried and biting her lower lip.

Alistair stared at her for a moment—no one had ever been so blunt and honest with him or as ruthless while doing it—and knew that she was right—loathed though he was to admit it—and knew she spoke the truth.

He may not like her, but somehow he trusted her and knew she was right. It was time to start thinking for himself, for doing things his way and how he wanted them done. She was right, he couldn't run away from the throne and he had been fooling himself to think that he would be given a choice in the matter. But he would have a choice, he would choose how he ruled and he would choose his queen—and his queen wasn't holed up in Denerim letting her traitor of a father rule in her name.

So he turned, making sure the rose was safe in the pouch tied to his waist, and made his way over to Andra, his chosen queen, and resolved himself while behind him Kiara smiled to herself before making her way back to her own lover.

Things were going well.

* * *

_I should have known better, being optimistic never gets me anyway. _

_I had always thought that the movies, the books, the games and the TV shows had downplayed things—I guess they had too for the audience to be able to stomach it and watch it. Yet I still was surprised by somethings._

* * *

It was the feel of Morrigan slipping from their shared bedroll that makes her wake more than the constant growl of Logan. Kiara opened her eyes, instantly awake and aware, to see Morrigan grip her staff tightly, her golden eyes narrowed and wary as they met her own dark gaze.

Logan was crouched, low and threatening, fur bristling as he stood between both the women and the mouth of the tent—Kiara could hear the answering growls of the Mabari; Elethea, Stanton and Ri.

"Something is not right with the Fade," Morrigan muttered, wary and watchful as both she and Logan stared at the mouth of the tent.

Kiara's hand wrap around her swords; longer and heavier sword in her left and short sword in her right, as she stands in a crouch and moves slowly, bare feet against the leather of the tent's floor, it's a cautious move that she abandons when she hears a scream—Vala's scream—and the bellowing of Bodahn's Bronto.

The walking dead had come for them and Kiara couldn't, doesn't, think—all she sees is Vala on the ground, clutching her stomach, a corpse raising its sword to finish her—and just moves.

Fire bursts across her blades—made of silverite and dragon-bone and damn near unbreakable—and she removes a head from a grey and rotting body as Logan lunges, snarling, and tearing apart another of the corpses as the others stumbled out of their tents with weapons ready.

But Kiara doesn't care, she just braced her legs and stood in front of Vala—there was too much blood seeping between her fingers, clinging to that golden ring—and for a moment Kiara was afraid before she pushed that feeling away—she would have time to feel fear and panic when they were safe—and could hear Logan's paws padding as he circles behind Vala to protect her back.

A burst of fire, devastating and ruthless, seared across the ground and devoured the corpses moving towards them—a corpse shouldn't be that fast, then again corpses shouldn't be moving at all—and Ellana slipped through Kiara and Logan, hands glowing as she reached for Vala.

"Shh, Da'len," Ellana crooned, her voice so soft and gentle and at odds with the battle raging around them. "I have you, you'll be okay."

Kiara was a murderer, a monster, but she was also a protector and by all the gods she would fucking protect Vala and Ellana.

A bear roared, the golden eyes marking it as Morrigan, as she tears through the corpses with her claws and teeth—and part of her, a small part of her that she barely acknowledges as she stabs and blocks and parries, was glad that it was a bear that she used and not a spider.

* * *

Bann Teagan rubbed his face, feeling his beard catch on the callouses on his palms, as he watched over his brother's people. No more had died that night which meant they wouldn't have to deal with a familiar face attempting to kill them.

There was few serious injuries which were tended by the women as the men counted their weapons—not enough he could tell—and the children scampered around, all trying to help where they could.

Dawn was a welcomed relief to them now, only at night did the dead return in hordes, and it had been an hour since light broke free.

Only stragglers that were more easily dealt with remained.

They needed help, Teagan knew that. He had sent as many men as they could spare to gain aid—which wasn't many—and wished that Isolde hadn't sent all the knights off to look for a myth. He had no idea how many guards Isolde had with her in the castle but he couldn't leave the people to fend for themselves to find out nor find out what was the cause of this undying horde.

A mage most likely, but what was a mage doing in Redcliffe? And what in the Maker's name did Isolde think she was doing inviting a mage into the castle? She hated and feared them and yet she let one into the castle—where, if rumours were to be believed, he poisoned the Arl and then started this nightmare.

"Bann Teagan, Bann Teagan,"

Teagan looked up as one of the young men, Thomas he believed, rushed towards him with a strange collection of people following them, all of them dressed in soft trousers and cotton shirts, weapons attached to their waists and backs, blood and dirt covering them, and—was that two Qunari?

"They've come to help us," Thomas declared as he came to a stop.


	26. Chapter 26

"They are Grey Wardens, my Lord," Thomas continued just before small cluster of the group pushed their way forward. "And these are—"

"Not in the bloody mood," a dark haired woman growled out, the shoulder of her shirt—a sleeping shirt perhaps, Teagan could tell now they were all closer—slipping down to show what looked like a deep stab wound in it though she showed no sign of feeling said wound as it weakly wept blood. "Eli, Mal, find a blasted cot."

A male Dalish elf and a dark haired dwarven woman slipped past Teagan and moved their way to where the cots for the wounded was set up and stood guard almost around a free one.

The human woman strode towards it, one of the Qunari—it was a woman?!—following behind with another elf cradled in her strong arms and an elven mage attached to the other elf.

The elf in the Qunari's arms was young, pale, and bleeding from what looked like a deep wound as she gasped and whimpered in pain. The Dalish mage's hands were fixed on the wound, glowing brightly despite the blood that was clear through the glow.

Teagan almost jumped as a growling hound followed in their heels, glaring around with wary eyes.

"Wynne, Leona," a familiar looking woman muttered, her blue eyes worried. "Help them."

An aged mage pushed her way forward—the only one dressed in robes and not shirts and trousers—and hurried over to the group as the elf was gently placed on the bed with a red-headed mage quick behind her.

The dark haired woman loomed at the foot of the cot, hands clutched tightly around the long-sword and short sword on her waist, and watched intently as the three mages worked.

Teagan turned to the rest of the group—Grey Wardens, and didn't part of feel weak with relief that they weren't all dead like Loghain had claimed?—and met the familiar brown eyes of a familiar blond lad—by the Maker, Alistair had grown to look so much like Maric, like Cailan, that it was like looking at a ghost.

The doors of the Chantry opened again and two more people rushed into the chapel, somehow Teagan wasn't surprised when the male elf and female mage brushed by him like he was a piece of rumble and hurried over to the injured elf—potions and cloth clutched in their arms.

"Forgive them, Bann Teagan," the familiar woman, cultured and strong Ferelden accent, spoke up as she, Alistair and another dwarven woman stood before him. "Vala was injured quite badly in the ambush."

"There's nothing to forgive," Teagan spoke, glancing at the Dalish that stood just behind the woman's shoulder and was grimacing at him with mild dislike—he had yet to meet a Dalish that didn't dislike him on sight. "I'm sorry, but do I know you? You look very familiar."

"No, but you most likely knew my father," the woman replied, a brief flicker of pain entered her familiar blue eyes. "Bryce Cousland."

Teagan looked at her, yes she had Bryce Cousland's eyes and that meant she was Andra Cousland—the last of the Cousland was a Grey Warden, Maker two of Ferelden's oldest bloodlines ending with two Grey Wardens.

"You have my condolences," Teagan bowed his head slightly and Andra Cousland's face tightened slightly as she nodded back. "I'm afraid you've chosen a poor time to come for recruits, Warden Cousland, as I can't spare any men."

"What's happening, Bann Teagan?" Alistair spoke up, brown eyes dismayed at the sorry state of the people in the chantry, a just healing cut above his left eye. "How are the dead walking?"

Briefly Teagan was taken back to when Alistair would rush up to him when he came to visit Redcliffe, calling him 'Uncle Teagan', and promising to look after Teagan's prized horse—Teagan would admit now that the title that Teagan had encouraged the young boy to call him most likely didn't help Isolde to take to him, but it had meant so much to the little boy that Teagan wouldn't regret it—but years had passed since then and this wasn't a reunion of 'nephew' and 'uncle'.

"A mage, we believe," Teagan told him and a snort made him glance other to one last mage, an elven one, with cropped white blonde hair and pale green eyes, gave him a look of distain when she saw him looking. "One was invited into the castle before Eamon fell ill and this started."

"The Arlessa allowed a mage into the castle?" Andra's eyebrows raised and Teagan could understand her disbelief.

"Yes," he rubbed his jaw, still bemused about what his dear sister-in-law was thinking. "I can't spare any men."

"We're not here for men," Andra told him, the unspoken yet hanging heavily in the air. "We're here to help and to gain the aid of Redcliffe in calling a Landsmeet."

Teagan almost smiled—politics had never been his thing, that had been Eamon's battleground—but he could admire how clever they were being. Loghain had appointed himself as King without calling a Landsmeet, a breach in tradition and protocol, and at best made his claim almost illegal. She was calling into question his right to rule, a thing she could have been able to call on her own if she hadn't become a Grey Warden and Howe didn't proclaim to be Teynir of Highever to anyone who was near.

Getting his brother to help would have been a stroke of genius because Eamon had never truly hid his dislike for Loghain Mic Tir.

"Then we best save it and hope my brother recovers swiftly," Teagan said and Andra nodded.

* * *

Kiara's gaze didn't flicker away from Vala once; not when Wynne suggested that Leona helped the other wounded, not when Ellana coaxed Vala to swallow a potion to replenish blood, not when Wynne tied off the bandages around Vala, not when Morrigan cleaned and bound the wound on Kiara's shoulder, not when Elion reminded Ellana to take a mana potion and not when Ellana finally leaned back and wiped her forehead with her forearm so not to spread Vala's blood over her face.

"Is she going to be okay?" Malika finally asked after Wynne went to check on everyone else and Morrigan wrapped a hand around the grip that Kiara had on one of her hilts.

There was a weary look on Ellana's face, a look Kiara hadn't seen since she had almost been burnt to the bone during a battle with a drake—the left side of Kiara's ribs will always be a mess of burn scars and her left lung would always been weaker and more senstive—and Kiara knew that Vala wasn't in a good way, even with Ellana and Wynne's relentless help.

"She lost a lot of blood," Ellana said instead of truly answering and Kiara's face tightened.

"Ellana," Kiara said sharply and Ellana sighed as she washed the blood from her hands.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Ellana repeated, "Wynne and I were able to heal the internal damage and encouraged new blood vessels and flesh to grow. Her abdomen will be very tender and could tear open again if she strains herself that is only if she survives the night."

"The Wardens have pledged to protect this village," Zevran muttered, easing back into the group and standing just behind Elion, wary amber eyes on Kiara's still form. "What is the Companions going to do?"

"We're going to rip some undead bodies apart and show them why you don't piss off the Companions!" Malika declared determinedly.

"I've just spent hours keeping one of our family alive!" Ellana snapped, ignoring Elion placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And you want to fight the ones that did it?"

"If we did not fight those that have almost cost our lives then we wouldn't be able to fight much at all," Saya reminded the elf making her shoulders slump slightly as she turned her golden eyes to Kiara.

"Kiara," Ellana pleaded and Kiara finally stirred herself from her silent vigil.

"We cannot leave," Kiara reminded Ellana. "Vala can't be moved and I have sworn to help the Wardens this Blight."

Ellana's shoulders slumped more and she clasped one of Vala's pale hands in her own shaking hands.

"These undead have harmed one of our family," Kiara continued. "And like fuck are they going to get away with that. We will stay and we will help. We didn't run from fights until Ostagar and I think we've all agreed that we're not making that a habit."

"I'm glad to hear that," Bann Teagan said as he approached them and Kiara turned to glare at him.

"We're not doing it for you, fuck, we're not doing it for the people," Kiara told him bluntly, uncaringly, unforgivingly. "We're doing it because they hurt Vala and no one gets away with hurting one of our own."

* * *

_It was only as Vala lay there, still and pale, that I remembered how young she was and I wasn't just talking about her age. Vala wasn't like Malika, who had been groomed for battle since the cradle, she wasn't like Saya, who had to survive the harsh lifestyle of the Qun as a mage, nor was she like Ellana and Elion who never had a real home and had fought from childhood._

_Vala was a child compared to us and I only just realised just how amazing it had been that she had been able to win against the guards and knights of the Arl Denerim to live long enough to kill his spoiled little brat of a son._

_Living Corpses weren't something that I had ever gotten used to—all I could ever think when I saw a walking corpse was flesh-eating zombies—and now one of them had almost killed one of mine, one member of my little fucked-up family, had almost killed the baby of the family and for that they would burn._

* * *

Andra may have been young, she may have been sheltered by her father, but she remembered the Highever Massacre. She had seen the sharks drawn into the docks because of the thick blood in the water—many of the locals took down some of the sharks and eat well for a while after—and had heard the whispers between guards.

She had a feeling that what Kiara was going to unleash on the Undead Horde attacking Redcliffe would make that massacre pale.

She called the other Wardens to her side as Kiara came striding out of the Chantry—dark eyes hard and unforgiving, no movement wasted, muscles tensing and twitching with barely held back violence—and sat back to watch.

Andra realised as she watched Kiara exchange words with Bodahn that she had never seen Kiara's face so hard, so unforgiving, and it sent a shiver down her spine much like the thought of Darkspawn and their corrupted and withered faces.

"Andra?" It wasn't Alistair questioning her decision, but Lelianna who looked concerned as the Companions parted through Redcliffe—some talking with the Mayor or the Knight Templar while others moved towards homes and stores.

"Trust me," Andra spoke, feeling the irony as she still had trouble trusting the Orlesian Bard. "You don't want to get between the Companions and their targets."

"Yes," Zevran pipped up—Andra almost drew her sword in surprise because she hadn't heard him, hadn't even seen him appear next to them and from Lelianna's small jerk of surprise, she hadn't either which actually didn't make Andra feel better. "You don't want to get involved with them or in their way at the moment—I'm afraid they will be most discourteous at best. Our dear Kiara is at the moment discussing fire, lots and lots of fire."

It was almost amusing—more like unsettling—how easily Zevran seemed to get over his small hesitation—more like fear if Andra was going to be truthful—towards Kiara and settle into the Companions with Elion as his mostly ever present watcher—mostly because Elion wasn't with the assassin at the moment and Andra decided she wasn't too keen on finding out what Kiara had deemed more important for Elion to do then play nursemaid.

Andra wasn't that surprised, Kiara had always liked fire and once said if you were in doubt, kill it with fire. Everything succumbed to fire in the end, Kiara had told her twelve-year-old self, and it can destroy and cleanse everything. So Kiara would kill these undead things with fire, she would watch them burn and she would smile.

Andra had no doubt about that.

* * *

**AN: Hope you like it, sorry it's been awhile and a bit short, but I'm ill and just wanted to get this out for you. I also thought I'd ask you some questions for the Harry Potter story of this series so I can begin planning it a bit. **

**Do you want her to be muggleborn, half-blood or pureblood? Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff? Marauders era or Golden trio era? Stick with what we know of canon or bring in some pureblood culture? Born into the world or just dropped in like the others? And anything else you'd like to see?**


	27. Chapter 27

Kiara had always liked fire—despite being hurt by fire too many times to count—and, as Ana, she had learnt a lot about making her own bombs and grenades out of near enough anything and everything which was very helpful at that moment.

Saya and Morrigan were casting glyphs on the ground as Bodahn pulled every bit of alcohol out of his cart and set on the floor beside Kiara while Sandal muddled about making something like her modern-day lighters that she remembered with runes—that boy was a genius and Kiara would deck anyone that said differently.

Malika was dealing with the small band of Templar/Knights while Elion was talking with the Mayor and all the villagers—Elion just didn't have the people skills needed to talk with knights and Templars—while Ellana kept watch over Vala.

Zevran was, well he was somewhere around, and frankly Kiara couldn't be bothered with him at the moment. She had zombies to get ready to burn after all.

"Burn baby, burn," she sang under her breath.

Fuckers shouldn't have touched one of hers.

* * *

Morrigan bit her lip as she scanned the numerous glowing glyphs that herself and Saya—she was still having trouble reminding herself to use their names—had placed around Redcliffe which were focused mostly on the path leading into Redcliffe and the path leading from the docks to the Chantry where everyone was gathered.

The moment anything without a heart-beat stepped on one of them, the elements within would fire them as Kiara put it.

The Wardens, she had vaguely noticed, were keeping away from herself and the rest of the Companions—bleh, she was actually considering herself one of them—and far, _far_, away from Kiara.

She glanced behind her to where Kiara was sat on the Chantry steps making bombs apparently—that concerned Morrigan because she remembered Kiara trying out her bombs in the Wilds long before she left and came back and thus _knew_ the damage that she could cause. Perhaps if she was more concerned, or perhaps if she cared more about the people like Alistair did, she would have perhaps informed them to be ready for the destruction that Kiara could unleash and that they may have to rebuild almost everything.

But Morrigan didn't care about them, she only cared about two things; herself and Kiara. That would change, she knew, when her—their—future child was born and she supposed she better get used to the Companions as it was obvious to both sides that neither side was leaving Kiara—perhaps in a few years she may even care a little about the Companions.

* * *

_Despite common belief it seems, I had never lost control and become violent without just cause, and I never let my violence get out of hand._

_Bucky had beaten control into my head, made aware while everyone could be an enemy it didn't mean I could kill everyone I came across—something I was already aware of, but he seemed to think I needed it pound into me. _

_Logan had reinforced that and taught me to control my strength, to control the instinct that automatically told me to fight whenever challenged or even slightly panicked. _

_The Nazis, that fucking wanker of a doctor, had enraged me and I had to work on my control harder than ever. I had placed more than one Nazi on their knees though Erik had only seen one occasion. _

_Here and now, I hadn't lost control—not really—and I wasn't going too mindlessly attack and burn at the Living Dead so Redcliffe would stay standing, but I was making a statement. _

_Vala Tabris was mine, she was under my protection, she was part of my Companions—my fucking family—and I had never been shy about how far I would go, how cruel I would be, to protect them. It was time Thedas finally knew that._

* * *

Back when it was Flemeth, Morrigan and she in the Wilds Kiara had wished that she had been recreated as a mage. That small wish had been squashed when she had seen just how Saya struggled with her magic, how Ellana had been oh-so-hesitant with her emotions on the off chance that Demons ripped control of her before she finally relaxed and it was glorious to see that.

Kiara had enough to fucking deal with, she didn't need Demons trying to get in her head or the struggle of learning how to tame and use magic. Kiara's powers had always been healing herself or strength, it had been part of her in a way that no other power was and she wondered—worried—what would happen if she was given a different power like magic or something because she had never faced that.

She had face torture and war, she had faced being hated for something she couldn't control and being feared for how far she could go, she had faced being beaten into the ground and being able to beat people back into the ground. She hadn't experienced a power that she was unsure she would be able to control, a power that would probably have some mind of its own, a power she had never thought she would have before this shit-storm of an afterlife—and by the gods, why didn't someone put that in a pamphlet and spread it?_ That_ was something people actually needed to know!

(You thought you knew Death? Well here's how you're wrong! Read inside for all the gory details of your continued lives and the trouble that will get you into!)

She bit back a laugh at that thought, shit, she thought she had gotten over most of her crazy but then again she probably should have known better. There was no getting over crazy, there was only getting used to it.

Malika's whoop of delight brought her out of her thoughts and she glanced at her dwarven sister—oh gods, she was getting soft and mushy—and had to smile at the way Malika admired the way her axes now were alit with fire with an unholy smile—a dwarf after her own heart.

"Is that all you're wearing?" It was the first time Kiara had ever heard Morrigan sound appalled and she straightened from where she was checking over her collection of Molotov bombs and turned to her lover.

"Yes…?" Kiara hesitated slightly as she glanced down at herself—everything important was covered and such so what was the problem?

"That is not fully adequate protection!" Morrigan protested as she inspected her lover's 'armour' with distain.

A chain mail vest protected her torso by not her arms or throat while the leather trousers were well worn and laid low on her hips before being tucked into her metal capped boots.

Kiara sighed as she looked at Morrigan.

"Better this then getting set on fire because of cotton and leather armour," she informed her quietly, judging from Morrigan's clenched jaw she hated that Kiara was making sense.

Kiara never wore a lot of armour when she played with fire and/or bombs for a number of reasons. Armour—even in the light armour that she wore—was heavy and slows you down, the oils she used to maintain her armour were reasonably flammable and she often wore cotton under shirts and such which could catch fire quickly by a stray ember or two. Better have a few burn scars on her arms then going up in a blaze of flames.

Morrigan's lips pursed before she placed one hand firmly against Kiara's chest and between her breasts. Kiara breathed in sharply as she felt Morrigan's magic surround her body, humming just above the skin while some hummed under her skin and realised it was the first time that she had ever truly felt Morrigan's magic.

It was wild and fierce, protective and loyal, hard with just a hint of softness. It was dark in a way that comforting like a starlit sky. Kiara had never been afraid of the dark, not really, she had been wary of what shadows hid before she learnt to be one with the shadows too. The light had always upset her more, beaming into her eyes and blinding. Light was an enemy in a fight when it blinded you or shone of the weapon you were using and when you were in the middle of setting up an assassination then it was fuck-cluster when the light shone off your scope or other bits of weaponry and alerted your target.

"What are you smiling so sappily about?" Morrigan's words were harsh perhaps but her tone wasn't.

"You're magic is as beautiful as you," Kiara spoke honestly and was rewarded with the rare sight of Morrigan blushing.

"You sappy fool," Morrigan scowled, her cheeks still tinted a delicate pink, and half-heartedly slapped Kiara's shoulder.

Kiara laughed, the first laugh since before Vala had been injured, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Gods, this woman was going to break her heart, Kiara thought as she pulled away.

* * *

Morrigan huffed as she climbed up on the ladder that had been placed against inn—all the archers and mages were going to be raining down support from above—and cursed both her lover and Andra for thinking up this idea.

"Here," a grey-purple hand reached out and Morrigan hesitated, glancing up at Saya's calm ashy grey eyes, before clasping her hand around Saya's strong and scarred forearm.

There was no sign of strain or effort as Saya hauled Morrigan up and onto the roof.

"Thank you," Morrigan let go but Saya didn't, she looked up and opened her mouth to demand to be let go when Saya lent down so she was staring firmly into Morrigan's eyes.

"If you hurt Kiara," Saya began, her voice gaining more of a growl then Morrigan ever heard. "I will kill you."

Morrigan glared up at the Qunari in quiet outrage and yanked her arm out of Saya's grasp, loathing the fact that she knew that the Qunari had let her go.

"And if you ever let her get hurt," Morrigan leaned up so their noses were near touching and she could see the little circular scars that dotted around Saya's mouth if she cared to glance down. "You'll beg for death when I'm through with you."

For a moment the two women stared at each other before Saya smiled.

"Welcome to the Companions," Ellana spoke up from beside the Qunari as her brother groaned slightly

"Great!" he threw his hands up in the air. "Now I can't do away with her."

Morrigan sneered at him and he sneered back.

"Elion," Saya said as she straightened and Elion sighed as he dropped his sneer.

"Fine, fine, welcome to the family, yay," he said to Morrigan in a sour tone before spinning sharply on her heels and moved to his own place on the roof.

* * *

Wynne and Leona were in the Chantry, barriers protecting it from enemies and ready to receive those that were injured. Lendanis, Saya, Ellana, Elion, Lelianna, Morrigan and Melima were positioned on roofs and split into two groups—Lendanis, Melima and Lelianna were on the roof of the shack nearest the stone and wood docks while the Companions were on the roof of the nearby inn.

Malika, Sereda, Sten and Faren protected the doors of the Chantry with a group of the village men. Andra, Alistair, Malika and Zevran would hold the docks with the knights while Kiara and the four hounds would be darting everywhere and killing anything that was dead, rotting, and walking.

Alistair thought it was a wise move on Andra's part to suggest that Kiara not join one of the teams and let her do her own thing as he doubted Kiara could stop herself from moving and killing as maybe walking corpses as she could even if that meant leaving part of the team she was assigned too. Though it also meant that the destruction that Kiara would unleash would be more spread out instead of limited to one area, but Andra hadn't seemed concerned that Kiara would completely destroy the village so Alistair decided to have faith in his lover.

By the Maker, wasn't that a wonderful title to give to Andra? Andra, with her beautiful blue eyes, who had blushed when he had confessed his feelings for her and took his rose with her pale hands. Andra had listened to his tale, not interrupting as he strutted and stumbled over his words and when she had seen him watching her with quiet anxiety and quipped that he wasn't just a bastard, he was a _royal_ bastard, and he had laughed, a choked and relieved laugh.

Not once did she bring up politics they would have to deal with later on, nor the fact he was now heir to the throne. She had wanted Alistair for him, _Him_, not because who his father was, not because he was heir to the throne because in a way, she could be classed as an heir too.

She had told him, her face and voice gentle in a way he hadn't yet seen her, that she liked Alistair for him, for his stupid jokes, for him being there when she needed to talk, and that they would deal with all that—that being Maric and the throne—when they had to. She wanted to have one thing she didn't have the worry about, that they didn't have to worry about, which would go right and he agreed.

It was still all new, they hadn't even had the chance to become _true_ lovers when the camp was attacked and everything had happened so fast. Alistair couldn't wait for this to be over, for the dead to stay dead, the castle to be freed and Arl Eamon seen to so he could relax with Andra, could pretend they were simply a man and woman falling in love and didn't have the fate of Ferelden and the rest of Thedas hanging and weighing on their shoulders.

* * *

**AN: I'm using the Inquisition version of Redcliffe for this. Next chapter will be the battle—I'm still not good at writing fighting scenes—and maybe even them entering the castle. Sorry it's a bit short, couldn't think what to write so I hope this chapter is okay. **

**For those of you that are interested in Kiara's next adventure I will tell you things that I can confirm. Kiara will be in the Golden Trio's timeline—not sure if I want her the same as them or a bit older. She will be dropped into the verse and thus her blood status unknown, there will be a few bits and pieces of pureblood culture in there, and she will be Slytherin. Everything else will have to be a surprise though I have a question.**

**Should I be really mean to Kiara and make her a werewolf on top of everything else? **

**(Gods, I have issues with myself if I want to make a character based on me a werewolf just to be mean)**

**Hope you enjoy and review. **


	28. Chapter 28

Malika itched to beside Kiara, to protect her flank and wade into the thick of things with her, but the last time Kiara had gotten even close to _this _brand of fire crazy, Malika had spent a month washing giant blood from some weird and uncomfortable places—they learned to duck for cover and shields when Kiara decides to throw one of her 'little' bombs down the throat of a giant.

Giants were not fire proof, much like drakes and dragonlings weren't fire proof inside their bodies—_that_ brought its own month of washing.

Anyway, Kiara was trusting Malika to protect the Chantry where Vala was currently laying, venerable and weak, and Kiara trusted Malika to protect her—because she knew Kiara hardly cared about all the innocent civilians compared to Vala. If Kiara was ever given a choice between the world and the Companions—which she had to grudging admit included Morrigan now—then there wasn't a doubt in her mind what Kiara would chose.

She would have always choose Companions. Fuck the rest of the world, she would say, and she would chose them without hesitation or thought.

* * *

_**In the back of her mind, Malika remembered when Kiara had gotten so drunk that she actually cried and talked about her past. Talked about a boy called Alex that she loved as fiercely as if he was her own, of her brothers Charles and Erik and her sister Raven—they were all dead though, them and the rest of her family, and she knew though she didn't act like it, it tore Kiara up when she let herself think about them.**_

_**Kiara had never mentioned Morrigan though, never once shared who she was writing to and why she wasn't sending them, just holding on to them and tied in a bundle that she carried around with her where ever she went. She didn't tell Malika who she always bought jewellery for when they had enough coin that it didn't matter if they bought a few trinkets and things for themselves.**_

_**Malika would never tell Kiara how hurt she was when she finally met Morrigan, when she finally saw who Kiara had been thinking for as long as she knew her, who she had been writing to and buying gifts for. It was like Kiara didn't trust her enough to tell her about Morrigan, and that had burned in a way that she had rarely if ever had to deal with as the sole daughter of a Carta Boss.**_

_**Maybe that had been the reason she couldn't—wouldn't—accept Morrigan straight away. Of course it could have been because she was a bitch.**_

* * *

Kiara had always loved fire; it was untameable, it was destruction, it cleansed. But she never used it too much, because if she did then she would have to smell that burning smell and it brought—screams, terrible pleading screams, crying of the soon to be dead and of the damned, she held her hand and didn't let go until the gas lifted and she was the only left alive, they were burning them again, black smoke choking in her lungs, filling her nose, the smell of burning flesh, of _human_ flesh—bile to her throat.

She didn't need that happening in the middle of a fight when it would cost her life so she didn't use it much. But now? With these Walking-Corpses? She'd bring down the fire of hell on them.

Logan growled warningly at her side and she barred her teeth in a grin as she readied her flaming swords.

The first corpse barely came into view before Logan was on it and tearing at its throat. Elethea, Stanton and Ri were on his heels, snarling and lunging at their own corpse.

She couldn't let them have all the fun, so she lunged, blades moving in a fiery blur.

* * *

Elion didn't need to think, slap a bow in his hands and point out his targets and he only stopped when either they were all dead or he had run out of arrows whichever happened first—considering how many arrows he made a day, it was more likely he would run out of enemies to kill way before arrows.

He had been using a bow since he could walk, his old Keeper—back when he was in favour and wasn't disgraced because of who he wanted to sleep with—had once joked that he was shooting arrows before he could walk. Kiara had remarked when he told her that—when the bitterest had eased and the wound wasn't so raw—that she could believe it.

(He didn't tell her how much pride had swelled in him when she said that, because he knew she would grind him into the dust in a spar just to get his ego down—her words, not his)

Some of the corpses' had bows but hit more of their own people than theirs, the few arrows that could cause damn to them or the villagers that were fighting were destroyed by a flash of fire from Ellana, Saya or Morrigan.

Grudging, Elion could admit that Morrigan handled herself well. She killed as many corpses as his sister and Saya, and she actually helped shield one of the four of them when she caught an arrow heading at their blind-spot.

Kiara had never been attracted to weak people nor did she find those that couldn't—or sometimes, wouldn't—defend themselves attractive. Morrigan was neither of those things and if fact, despite those things too.

Morrigan fought back, with her words or her magic—and once with her hands—and she didn't cower away from a fight or hardship. She had little patience for those she didn't like, but he had seen her with Kiara and for her, the dark-haired mage seemed to learn some patients because if there was someone that Morrigan cared more for then herself then it was Kiara.

That made him respect her—just a little which grew with each fight and each moment he sees them share—but there is one reason why he knows he can never hurt her.

Kiara was in love with her.

And Elion would never hurt her by hurting the woman she loved—even if the woman could be a bitch at times.

It's because of that, that he doesn't hesitate when he noticed a corpse had found its way up on the roof and was heading straight for Morrigan's unprotected back. He only had to shot two arrows quickly, one going through its dead heart and one through its eye and into its brain.

The look Morrigan throws him was startled mostly, but underneath was appreciation and respect, before she returned the favour by completely destroying the corpse coming behind him.

Yeah, Elion could learn to live with her.

(Yeah, like he had a choice when Kiara was in love with her)

* * *

Dani hoped that it didn't form a habit of raining through 'important' battles because the ground—or roof in this case—could be slippery enough without the rain making it slicker.

She grimaced as she stopped herself from unleashing a powerful lightning attack—she wanted to be killing the enemy and not her allies.

She was half-amazed that the fires that Kiara had started and the bombs that she handed out still worked during the downpour. If she didn't know better, she would almost think magic was involved to make them more water resisted.

Lelianna barely fumbled with the thing that Kiara called a lighter to light up the bit of cloth hanging out of the bottle and didn't hesitate to throw it at the stumbling enemies, it exploded into a blazing fire that devoured the rotting flesh with ruthless efficiently.

Dani could almost feel the heat from where she stood and she would admit that she was impressed by the power that the human rouge had been able to bottle. She was almost glad that the human wasn't a mage, imagine the destruction that she could unleash if she could use magic?

Dani almost shuddered at the thought and hoped that Kiara wasn't one of the few humans that came into magic later on in life. She had heard the stories shared around dinner, she didn't want to know what level of new destruction Kiara could unleash with magic.

She hoped she was long dead before she had to deal with that. Because knowing her luck? It was going to happen.

* * *

Surprisingly Kiara was keeping her destruction focused almost solely on the corpses, something that Alistair was thankful of. He may not have loads of fond memories of Redcliffe, but it was still where he grew up and he would have hated to see it after unleashing Kiara onto it.

Maker, she was probably going to cause him all sorts of trouble when he became king—something he was still getting used to.

The clumsy strike from one of the corpses was easy to block with his shield and his sword took its head without resistance—it was almost funny that he had tried so hard to get away from the Chantry and ended up using a sword by a Chantry after helping them out a bit.

But it was a good blade, better then what he had before, and he wasn't going to give it up anytime soon.

An arrow whizzed past him and impaled its self through the eye of one of the corpse that had been stumbling towards him with a rather brutal looking battle-axe.

At a glance, he could tell it was Melima's arrow—the fletching of arrow had been slightly teared and the shaft was plain—he was almost surprised considering he was half-sure that Melima had been fully focused on protecting Andra—not that he didn't approve, he did, but still, surprise?

Andra's shoulder bumped against his, she glanced at him through the slits of her helmet, before bashing a corpse away with her shield and beheading another with one strong strike of her sword.

"Are you alright?" she called out, her footing firm despite the rain making the ground before the docks turned to mud.

"Right as rain," he joked slightly as he stabbed, bashed and then beheaded the corpse in front of him.

It startled a laugh out of her though her strikes didn't waver as she continued killing the living dead.

He grinned under his helmet before he threw himself back into the fight.

* * *

The bonfires that Kiara had built had last the rainy night and were now put to great use as the villagers dragged and threw the corpses into the fire, and kept watch on the blazing fire to make sure none of embers strayed and started a great fire through Redcliffe.

The Arlessa Isolde had managed to flee the castle to plea for her brother-in-law's assistance—she hadn't been pleased to Alistair—and the Bann had been able to tell the Wardens about the secret pathway and give Andra his ring to open the door before he followed his sister-in-law to Redcliffe Castle.

"Perhaps it would be best if not all of us go," Sereda frowned thoughtfully as they gathered around where the Companions had settled themselves around Vala's bed in the Chantry. "Doubt that pathway was built for a lot of people to travel through."

"You'd be amazed how many people can get through one," Andra spoke grimly as she glanced down at Vala—the elf was pale and still under the blanket that Ellana tucked around her. "How is she?"

"Better," there was relief on Ellana's golden face where she sat on the edge of Vala's bed. "She's just resting for now."

"So who's going then?" Alistair asked, resting a hand on Andra's back.

"I'm not,"

Andra's head snapped towards where Kiara stood with her arms wrapped around Morrigan from behind.

"What?" Alistair voiced the startled question on what could possible everyone's mind considering how everyone was looking at her—Morrigan had even tilted her head back so she could see Kiara's face.

Kiara ignored them, freeing one hand and reached up to tug a stray bit of Morrigan's ebony hair making the mage frown.

"Kiara?" Malika frowned up at her and Kiara turned her dark eyes to her friend. "Why?"

"Because," Kiara's face tightened. "I'm still very angry at the moment, I would hate to do something I will regret."

Malika frowned harder, there wasn't many things that Kiara regretted as she had taken on a motto to never do something that she would regret—Malika was sure that was because of Kiara's past and the many regrets she had before she met and created the Companions. For Kiara to be worried that she would do something she would regret though, the only thing that Kiara would really regret was if she hurt a kid, but—Oh.

Malika almost gaped at her friend, a kid? A child did this? Pissing hell. This just got more pissing complicated.

Pissing hell, she needed a drink.

* * *

**AN: Not much fighting, sorry but I'm not good a writing fight-scenes as you can probably tell. Next will be the confrontation with Connor. We all know there is a few fates that Connor can have but I'm going to do what I've always done in the game and that is saving him—and unfortunately the bitch, Isolde. **

**Right so I've gotten mixed reviews on the werewolf idea so I'm not going to do that—the most I'd do is what happened to Bill when he had his run-in with Greyback. I just wanted to know if you have anything you want to see in her next adventure? Pairings? Is there a Harry Potter canon pair that you want to see changed? Just let me know.**


	29. Chapter 29

Varric watched amused as the older Hawke boy tore verbally into his uncle as his sister loomed beside him and twirled those wickedly curved double-bladed daggers with an ease that spoke of great skill and Hawke boy Junior attempting to look casually intimating as he held his large sword—Varric just thought he was attempting to overcompensate something.

The little Hawke girl was comforting her distraught mother—looks like Gamlen hadn't been gentle when breaking the news of the family's disgrace and lost fortune to his sister.

A redhead woman stood near the Hawke family, arms crossed over her rather flat-chest as she glared at Gamlen.

Looks like Ole'Gamlen wasn't making any friends, Varric thought. He was half-tempted to get closer to hear exactly what was being said to make Gamlen cringe and pale like that.

Part of him wanted to pay for their safe passage into Kirkwall, but Bartrand was already talking about funding an expedition into the Deep Roads when the Blight was over—like big brother knew it was going to be over soon and all—and he knew he would get in hell if he dared spent precious coin on some refugees—especially if he knew that they were singled out by Kiara as Bartrand actively hated her.

(Really, Kiara only had to smile and Bartrand hated her)

It didn't look like they really need his help anyway, he had noticed both Meeran and Athenril enter the Gallows and knew that Gamlen had 'arranged' something for his sister's children. Would they choose to be a smuggler or a hired blade?

Varric decided he'd keep an eye on the family and mused he really had to come up with nicknames for them as calling them all Hawke would be never impossible.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell her?" Elion's tone was more curious than anything, something that Kiara could deal with easily.

If Elion had been disagreeable—like he was after Ostagar—then Kiara wasn't sure she wouldn't have snapped at him. She never lashed out in anger if she could help it—never physically and not often verbally. But no one had come that close to killing one of hers in years.

Kiara realised that she had been foolish and overconfident, she had been too used to the level that she had brought the Companions up to and the fact that Vala had almost single-handedly killed a manor filled with guards to think about really pushing and training Vala like she had the others. Vala had almost paid the price for her mistake. She wouldn't let that happen again.

People died, it was part of life and Kiara knew that and somewhat accepted that. What she couldn't accept was standing by and watching them die when she knew she could do something—she had done enough of that as Hope and it hadn't done a thing to help anyone in the long-run.

"We will not be here always to hold their hands," Kiara answered softly, keeping Morrigan close—she had stopped huffing and scowling at nothing when she realised that Kiara wasn't letting go anytime soon, she was like a huffy cat. "They need to understand difficult choices."

"They'll kill him," there was no horror in Ellana's voice, little sympathy, and Kiara understood because frankly at that moment Kiara didn't care if Connor Guerrin died or not.

Through his, and that stupid woman he called a mother, rash actions Vala had almost died. She could have died, she would have died if Ellana and Wynne and Leona hadn't been healing her with all their frantic healing magic.

"Andra would never kill a child," Kiara disagreed, pressing her face into Morrigan's dark hair and peeking out to watch Leona tend to the wounded.

Andra had taken with her Wynne, Lendanis, Alistair, and Sereda and of course Melima—Kiara could admit she hadn't seen that friendship coming but it was nice, it was reassuring, and she had the half-amused thought what the nobles would think of their Queen having a Dalish as the head of her guard. Faren had taken Sten to talk with certain dwarf about a certain Qunari blade—after Kiara gave him a sly word—and Lelianna was helping the Mother and Sisters with the children.

The Companions were spread around Vala's cot; Ellana sat on the cot itself and gently stroking Vala's striking hair out of her still too pale face, Elion standing at guard at Vala's head with Zevran beside him, Saya sat on the cot to Vala's left and was reading one of the tomes with Malika beside her sharpening her axes. Kiara sat on the cot to the right of Vala, Morrigan pulled down so she was almost laying back against Kiara.

It soothed her, having Morrigan so close, and it stopped her from doing anything she'd regret. Kiara was many things; a murderer, a monster, a killer, but she wasn't a child-killer and she refused to become one out of anger.

"They'll find another way," Kiara continued and Saya hummed in agreement, never taking her ashy eyes off the text in front of her. "We have the largest collection of mages outside of a Circle after all."

Morrigan stilled for a moment under her touch before she relaxed back into Kiara and tilted her head so she could just brush a kiss against Kiara's shoulder.

"Clever girl," she muttered. "Very clever."

Kiara smiled, not surprised that Morrigan almost had some idea of what was going to happen. Flemeth had been around a long time and Kiara doubted there was much that she hadn't taught her last daughter.

* * *

_Remember, you are a Grey Warden and thus have the right to conscription._

Kiara's words echoed in the back of Lendanis' mind as she stared in shock at Jowan through the bars that kept them apart.

She was deaf to the harsh words that Wynne gave to her friend or Alistair's disbelief and blame. All she could hear was those words and her heart-beating hard and fast in her chest.

How did she know?

"I invoke the Right of Conscription," Dani was barely aware of the words she spoke when Jowan's dark eyes looked pleadingly at her, his voice desperate as he asked for Lily—she hadn't given a thought to the lay-sister once since she left the Tower the first time. "He is to be a Grey Warden."

"What are you doing?" Wynne gasped, appalled, as she stared at the elven woman. "He's a Blood-Mage! A Maleficarum!"

"He will be a Grey Warden," she turned to stare evenly at her friend's mentor, fists hidden behind her back so Wynne wouldn't see them shake because despite Wynne being an elder woman, she was also one of the most respected mage at the Tower and one didn't get to that level of respect without having power backing them up. "I have invoked my Right as a Grey Warden, his crimes are waved and he will find redemption with the Wardens."

Dani personally doubted that Jowan really regretted turning to Blood-magic, he had always felt inferior next to Dani, and even Leona whose only really skill was healing and protection, and Blood-magic gave him the needed power in his eyes, but she knew he regretted what he had done to the Arl and blamed himself for what was happening to Redcliffe.

She also knew that both the Arl and Arlessa would want Jowan dead and she wasn't going to let her friend die because he made some foolish mistakes. She had risked everything for her friend once, did Wynne really think she wouldn't again?

"Grey Wardens use everything they can to stop the Blight," Sereda spoke up almost thoughtfully as Wynne flushed with her outrage. "The Order has never turned away anything, not even Blood-Magic."

Dani didn't know why the dwarven princess was helping her because all that mattered to her at that moment was that Sereda was helping her. Dani could have kissed her in that moment.

"Surely you don't agree with this, Alistair?" Wynne turned to Alistair and Dani looked at him too, he would be the most against this next to Wynne, Dani knew, as he had been training to kill blood-mages longer than he had been a Warden.

Alistair was quiet for a moment, staring hard at Jowan before he turned his gaze to Dani. His gaze softened at the plea in her green eyes before he looked toward Andra. Her gaze was calm and encouraging, it was his decision and she wouldn't make it for him though she would support him.

He sighed, everything in his teaching told him to strike down the admitted Blood-mage, to disbelieve his pleas of innocence. He had admitted to poisoning Arl Eamon on Loghain's orders—that _may_ have helped them at the Landsmeet he knew before what he had gleamed from Andra's short lessons. But he wasn't just a mage, a mage they may have believed, but they would never believe a _Blood-Mage _even if he was a Grey Warden—perhaps especially because he _was_ a Grey Warden if the public opinion was against them.

He admitted to poisoning Arl Eamon, Alistair repeated the thought, the man that had given him a home despite how grudgingly Alistair wondered he was at the beginning. He had made sure he was educated, clothed, fed and had somewhere safe and relatively warm to sleep. Could Alistair really turn his back on all that to help the man who in affect started this crisis?

But the Grey Wardens had been almost completely destroyed, there was only seven of them now in Ferelden and they were tasked with stopping the Blight. Any help was needed, they needed to build up their numbers because no one was coming. The senior Wardens didn't know they needed reinforcements and wouldn't send any.

Could he trust to have a blood-mage fight with him? He hesitated and made the mistake of looking at Lendanis who stared up at him with wide green eyes—he had never noticed how tiny she was.

He sighed, heavy and long, and Lendanis' face lit up with victory.

"He only uses his blood or willing given blood," Alistair told her grudgingly as Wynne made a shocked noise. "He's your responsibility."

For a moment, he was certain that Lendanis was going to throw her arms around him but instead she helped Melima jimmy-open the lock of Jowan's cell.

Alistair's hand snapped out and gripped Jowan's arm tight.

"You do anything against us," Alistair said lowly, aware of the eyes on him. "I will kill you."

Jowan gulped as he stared up into Alistair's eyes.

_Good_, Alistair thought, _he-Jowan-believed him_.

Good, because Alistair wasn't lying or joking.

* * *

The boy sat with casual arrogance in the great hall of Redcliffe surrounded by blank-faced guards and Isolde hovering worriedly at his side. He was sat in the great throne-like chair that belonged to Arl Eamon as he watched Bann Teagan play the fool for his little court.

Andra could hear the sharp intakes of breath behind her from the Redcliffe knights, could see the familiar features in the boy's face that appeared in both Isolde and Teagan's faces. So this was the mage that had unleashed death upon Redcliffe, the Arl's only son.

Andra was struck by how close to age he was with Oren.

"What is this, Mother?" Connor asked, duo-voices coming from his mouth and purple eyes fixed on them. "I can't see."

Isolde glanced up, a brief flash of anger creasing her features at the sight of Jowan hiding in Lendanis' shadow, before her gaze stayed on Andra standing in the front with Sereda and Alistair flanking her and Melima just behind her.

"She is a woman, Connor," her voice was weary as she answered. "Like me."

"Like you?" the demon in Connor's body mocked. "She under half your age and is by far more beautiful. I'm surprised you haven't killed her in envy."

Isolde's eyes closed briefly with a look of pain on her face.

"That's enough now," Alistair stepped forward when Andra remained locked in place, a frown on his usually cheerful face. "You've had your fun, you need to stop now."

"Stop? Why should I stop?" the Demon asked. "The boy made a deal, he asked me to save his father's life and I have. The Arl lives because of me and thus I can do anything I like for payment."

"Not anymore," Sereda stated firmly as she stepped forward, hand on the hilt of her blade, and the Demon's glowing eyes flared with violence as it's enthralled knights and Teagan surged forward before brown bled into those purple orbs and Connor stared for a brief moment with a horrified look before he dashed from the great hall and blades and shields clashed.

It would be that look that would make Andra ask for another way that didn't involve death—she was tired of death, but knew she would have to deal with more death before all this ended.

Couldn't they, this once, couldn't they all live? Couldn't it be this once that no one had to die to fix things?


	30. Chapter 30

Dragon Age had really downplayed what was involved in the ritual to save Connor though Kiara wasn't surprised. She was just pleased that Bodahn had all they needed for it even if he was getting sharp looks from Wynne—gods, she was more uptight than she remembered from the game, and what did it matter if he was trading some lyrium sand? It was more likely for the Templars than the mages and that was the truth of it all.

Morrigan stood beside her, arms crossed under her breasts, as she watched Wynne instruct Leona and Lendanis what runes they had to make out of the blue sand. Kiara was betting that Morrigan was thinking of all the different ways that she would conduct the ritual from the little frown on her face.

Frankly, Kiara would have been more confident if Morrigan did the ritual since she had knowledge of some great forgotten magic, but at last, she wasn't the leader and Andra seemed to trust Wynne more when it came to something like this.

Jowan stood at bit away from everyone though Kiara didn't worry. It had nothing to do with him being a new Warden or that he was Lendanis' friend, the fact was that Zevran was slinking around and keeping a sharp eye on him—she trusted the assassin more than she trusted the Blood-Mage and that had nothing to do with prejudice.

Zevran_ knew_ what Kiara would do if he even attempted to betray them or let something happen to them, he was also interested in getting closer to Elion—it was almost shocking how obvious he was with his blatant bedroom gaze whenever the group had a moment to simply breathe.

Zevran was shit out of luck if he thought that Elion would just jump into his bedroll because he gave Elion a bedroom look. Elion wasn't just a vengeful little shit—he had once filled her sleeping roll with spiders after one particularly hard training session—but he was also a picky little shit. He had never taken a whore to bed even in that fancy whorehouse in Kirkwall, and liked to know who he was fucking—despite the fact that he had yet to ever have a proper relationship with them.

He may find Zevran interesting and attractive, but he would spend a few more weeks learning things before they ever shared sweat, saliva and sperm.

(Was she getting more blunt and crude? Because she kind of think she has, oh well, she'd blame it on old age)

"Who is going into the Fade?" Wynne asked as she looked up at Andra.

Andra stood, her back painfully straight, and one hand wrapped around her family blade with Alistair standing so close that their pauldrons were brushing together.

Her blue eyes flickered around the seven mages that they had before they settled on Leona.

"Leona," she called softly and the red-head looked up. "Will you?"

"Of course," Leona nodded and Kiara almost smirked because Leona was such the obvious choice.

Andra didn't trust Jowan because he helped make this mess and he was a blood-mage, she didn't trust Lendanis enough to do it because of the elf's relationship with said blood-mage. She would be wary of letting Wynne battle against the Demon because of her age, Ellana and Saya were too close to Vala for Andra to feel comfortable letting loose after the Demon and Connor, and that leaves us with Morrigan and Leona.

Morrigan had already expressed a disregard of what happens with Connor and was Kiara's lover, Kiara who was still pissed off because of Vala so that left one choice. Leona.

Elion pressed his forehead against Ellana's and they closed their eyes, breathing in each other before they parted. Saya let her hand rest on Kiara's shoulder briefly and Ellana's hand brushed Kiara's arm as they took their place around the circle with Morrigan, Lendanis, Jowan and Wynne as Leona took her place carefully in the middle.

Kiara's shoulder and arm tingled where they had touched her, the mages had already downed more lyrium potions than Kiara considered healthy and was thus brimming with magic.

In the middle and in front of Leona was their own version of the lyrium liquid that the Tower uses in the Harrowing, and Leona breathed out deeply as the other mages began to pour their magic into the runes and Kiara almost flinched at the electric feel to the air as the circle glowed blue.

One pale and slender hand reached out and touched the blue and glowing liquid. Kiara was almost unnerved by how Leona's eyes clouded over.

"How long will this take?" she asked Elion and he grunted for a moment, staring at the almost glowing form of his sister.

"Depends," Elion finally answered. "On how easily she can destroy the Demon."

Kiara grimaced, Morrigan would have been the better choice as Morrigan was a fighter. Leona was a healer and everyone knew it.

"So a while then," Kiara predicted easily and grimly, her gaze on Morrigan though she glanced at both Saya and Ellana beside her.

She had always hated waiting.

* * *

**_Sometimes when Kiara wait, when she have to wait, she remembers;_**

**_The winter blue with just a hint of sea green that was Bucky's eyes, the feel of warm flesh and cool metal as strong arms wrap around her waist. _**

**_The smooth movement of Peter's hand as he sketched out her mother's face with her, the way those hands could turn to steel and how steel skin took her hits in a way that others' couldn't._**

**_The too old eyes of Xavier as he gives her wisdom and tries to make her see herself different. _**

**_The way Steve threw her other his shoulder, the way he blushed when she took clothes off in front of him. _**

**_How young Erik looked when she first saw him, the way he looked at her as a standard to never let himself go to._**

**_Hank's shy smile on a human face, the way it didn't change when he became the Beast she remembered. _**

**_Charles' blue eyes lit up in wonder every time he met a new mutant, had taught them some control. The joy in those eyes when he first opens the School for the Gifted. _**

**_The blue of Raven's skin, the gold of her eyes, the features that her son—Kurt, her godson—inherits and the way she would smile softly when she cradled him when he was just a baby. _**

**_The feel of Alex's hair under her hand, the feel of his warmth wrapped around her as she soothes his nightmares._**

**_The smell of metal, blood, woods and a musk that is only Logan. The smell that meant safety when she was so much younger and a smell that meant trusted companion as they both grew older. _**

**_And that was only a few memories that came flooding back. That's why Kiara hated waiting, hated having to stop and wait and think because she remembered—and her heart breaks just a little bit more._**

* * *

Leona was considered a Healer and only a healer for good reason. Instead of some sort of destruction magic as her first experience of magic—the norm amongst mages—she healed, her little sibling—and wasn't it horrible that she can't remember if they were her brother or her sister? That she could only remember their Amell blue eyes—who had fallen over and had scrapped their knee.

It had happened in a public place, she knew because the Templars had grabbed almost as soon as she finished and she remembered her mother's scream—'not my daughter!' she had screamed, had pleaded—as the Templars had taken her away.

But that didn't mean that she didn't know defensive magic, the Tower made sure that all mages knew how to protect themselves, it was just she preferred to heal, to aid, to help. It also made most people underestimate her which she could use against them—her early noble upbringing was probably to blame for that thought.

She would use what she knew against this Demon, a Demon who probably was confident in its victory, and she would not fail. She couldn't fail.

* * *

There was a heaviness to her body that she had only felt once before, her arms felt trapped at her sides and it took her a minute too long to remember she had to open her eyes. It took a few—too long, Maker was she blind?—for her eyes to open and the light blinds so she closed her eyes and made her hiss in annoyance then pain as her stomach protested such a sound.

"You're awake!" Malika's voice was too loud, Vala decided as she opened her eyes up a slit and tilted her head to see the dwarf. "Thank the Paragon."

There was something startling on Malika's face, a deep expression of relief, easing fear and beaming happiness.

"Mal…?" she croaked in a hoarse tone, tongue felt heavy in her dry mouth and her throat was dry, painful.

"Shush," the accented voice could only belong to Lelianna as a cool hand brushed her forehead. "She is getting you something to drink. Take your time."

"What…?"

"Shush," Lelianna repeated, a hint of reproach in her voice. "Don't speak."

Vala had to fight the urge to continue talking as her panic raised, but knew she would only hurt her throat more.

What had happened? Where was the others? Ellana, Saya, Kiara and Elion? The Wardens? The Sten, Zevran and Morrigan? Why did she feel so weak? Why did her stomach hurt and burn? She didn't understand.

"Here,"

Malika was back and brought a water skin to her lips, it was awkward as Vala was still laid out on the cot, but Malika was careful and they didn't spill much as Vala greedily took in water before Malika took it back despite the whine that left Vala's throat.

"What…happened?" Vala asked, her voice still hoarse.

"Undead attacked you, Kiara unleashed hell onto an Undead Army, turns out a kid was responsible for it all, a Blood-Mage has been recruited as a Warden,_ he's_ responsible for the poisoning of the Arl and the mages are doing a weird ritual to kill a demon," Malika rattled off the list bluntly and Vala almost groaned.

How long was she out?

What the fuck did Malika mean with Undead Army?

* * *

For the first time it what felt like years, Connor's mind was free and unclouded and all Connor can do was stare at his shaking hands.

He was curled up outside his parent's bedchamber and could hear his mother's passionate voice through the door as she spoke of the Ashes of Andraste and how they would certainly heal his father.

Oh Maker, he clenched his fists and bundled them close to his chest. He had made a deal with a Demon to save him and it had lied, it had merely kept him 'alive' and so many people died for that, because of him.

Connor knew if he thought about too long, if he wondered about just who were dead, he'd start screaming and Connor doesn't know if he'd ever stop.

Wardens Andra and Alistair was with his mother, father and uncle behind the closed door. An elven Warden—with the tattoos that mark her as a Dalish—stood near him as a guard. She had flicked him a single look with her green eyes before she went back to her silent vigil and Connor had almost flinched—she knew what he had done, she knew what he had caused!

He wished he could forget, he wished that he hadn't been so foolish, but it was a fool's hope. The Maker wouldn't help the likes of him.

The sound of confident footsteps made him look up and he caught sight of the woman leaning against the wall across from him.

She was called Kiara apparently—he only knew of one woman called Kiara and that was the leader of the Companions—and she hadn't truly taken her gaze off him since the moment his mother ripped open the door to the room he was hiding in, screaming his name.

There was a heaviness to how she stared at him, like she was holding a knife to his throat and was wondering if she should give a little more pressure, just enough to break the skin and make him bleed for what he had done.

She was not heavily armoured like the warriors of the Wardens, she was not dressed in the light armour of the mages nor did she wear the medium armour of the rouges—she seemed to be the least armoured of the lot and that only frightened Connor more for some reason. She simply wore a tightly knitted mail vest and leather trousers, padded around the thighs and knees, tucked into leather boots with metal capped toes. Dark wrong looking blood was dried on her arms and she smelled like smoke and roasted meat that made his stomach roll.

He jerked his gaze away and watched as the woman that the footsteps belonged to come closer. Her name was Morrigan and she was a mage, like him. Her armour seemed to consist of mostly leather and instead of trousers she wore a war-skirt.

She glanced at him unnatural gold eyes for a moment, her expression almost curious, before she stopped beside Kiara.

"I am surprised that she was actually able to do it," Morrigan remarked almost casually, her hand resting on the muscle of Kiara's bicep. "He shows no sign of continued possession."

Connor flinched because she was talking about him and Kiara continued to watch him with her dark eyes.

"It looks like Leona has hidden talents," Kiara seemed to agree and the name 'Leona' sparked a memory of green sky and bed that was his and yet not, a woman kneeling down in front of him with hair a brilliant red and telling in such a gentle voice that he had to wake up now.

She had been the mage that had entered the Fade to save him, Connor knew. She had smiled at him softly when she had seen him before she excused herself back to the Chantry so she could continue to help the wounded—people, good people, hurt by him.

Morrigan hummed but seemed uninterested as she reached to play with Kiara's dark hair in a way that he remembered witnessing between a stable boy and a kitchen maid—not something that was approved of between couples of the same gender, Connor knew as he had heard his father berate two servant boys he had caught together and sent one of them off to become a Templar and another a soldier.

Did they not know? Or did they just not care that their affection wasn't approved of by most people?

It was easier to think about that, better to think about that, then to pause and reflect on what he had done.

* * *

_As Isolde continued to make a passionate case on a quest for the Sacred Ashes of Andraste, Levi Dryden had finally caught up with them and was regaling Sereda with Soldier's Peak. _

_Vala was awake, Malika had informed me, and Ellana had gone to make sure she was healing well. _

_What would happen next? Which would Andra chose? Soldier's Peak? Orzammar? Or a quest for a legend that would start of in the heart of Loghain's power?_

* * *

**AN: Don't worry, Kiara won't be leaving without sharing some words with Isolde. But where to you think the Wardens and Companions go next? Any thought of what other pairings you'd like to see?**

**Pairings so far;**

**Andra x Alistair**

**Morrigan x Kiara**

**Elion x Zevran**

**Faren x Malika**

**Also anything else you'd like to see in the Harry Potter world? So far most seem to what to see Hermione and Kiara get together, is there any other pairing you'd like to see? Is Hermione the person you want Kiara to end up with in her next life? Who do you want Harry to be with? Or Ron?**

**What changes to you think Kiara could bring to the Harry Potter world?**


	31. Chapter 31

It was strange standing beside his mother as the dead was placed into wooden boats and act like he hadn't done this, that he didn't remember doing this, and it hurt in a way that he was sure he would never recover from.

Connor saw the looks that the villagers gave the party, heard the whispered, and knew they would soon know that he did this, that the future-lord that they had watched grow and unleashed an undying horde on them.

It was solemn as the first boat was pushed away from the docks, the men of the village dipped their arrows in fire and waited.

There was a tension building in him, a need to scream and confess as peopled cried and he selfishly wished that they wouldn't, that they would stop crying because he already knew how horrible he was, he already knew what horror he had brought, he already knew what type of cursed creature he was and didn't need their tears and dawning looks to tell him that.

"Are you, are you, coming to the tree? They strung up a man, they say who murdered three,"

Connor's head snapped around to where Kiara and her Companions—the actual Companions, and part of him wondered if they were going to kill him because the tales say even they've killed evil mages before—were sitting and standing on the stone wall.

"Strange things happen, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight at the Hanging Tree," she sang, her voice soft and not made for singing. "Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where a dead man called out for his love to flee? Strange things happen, no stranger would it be if we met at midnight at the Hanging tree."

It was a morbid song, part of him thought, but it suited the mood.

It was almost beautiful when Kiara reached the beginning again and a number of voice joined her mournful song.

* * *

_Yes, I'm aware that I can't sing. Yes, I'm aware I'm tempting fate by singing Katniss' song from the Hunger Games—come on, who can honestly say that they didn't like that series?_

_But for some reason, I thought that song had to be sing then. It was a morbid song and yet it had been used as a song of hope too. Perhaps it would give them hope? They would need that hope in the months that would come._

_Shit, I've been spending too long listening to Lelianna talk if I'm starting to believe that crap._

* * *

It was hard to feel secure in his room while knowing it wouldn't be his for much longer, he had exposed himself as the monster he was and his mother could not protect him any longer. He would be leaving for a Tower soon.

He was honestly surprised that Templars weren't breaking down his door and dragging through Redcliff in chains. He was surprised that the people weren't howling for his blood, or maybe they were and his mother was attempting to sooth them away from his ears and eyes.

"You are very brave," the soft female made him turn sharply on his heel and stare, startled, at his open doorway—he knew that voice, that voice had been singing just a short while ago—and at Kiara. "Very foolish, but brave."

He automatically scowled, drawing himself up straight, and almost snapped at her—how dare some commoner speak to him like that? His mother's voice screeched in his mind—before he flinched away from her unamused and unimpressed look and took a step back, remembering what he had caused, what he had done, and how she knew it all.

She watched him with her dark eyes, no sympathy lightening them as she watched him tremble and fear began to set in. The last time he had been this afraid was when the Demon was clawing its way into his mind and taking over his body.

"Are you here to kill me?" he was proud that he didn't stumble over his words in his fear, that he kept his voice steady even if it was a bit weak.

Her head tilted to the side, a bit of curiosity in her dark eyes as she stared at him, and for a moment, Connor was very certain that the woman wasn't human or at least not fully human any more if she ever was.

"Do you want me to kill you?" the was no real inflection in her voice, her tone was mildly curious as she eyed him in a way that made something deep inside of him, something primal, scream at him to run, to beg and plead for his life.

"I…" he hesitated, "don't know."

Kiara hummed lightly.

It would be easier to let Kiara kill him, to stand and watch as she took one of her beautifully cared for blades and let her slit his throat—he knew she would watch him with that same mildly curious look as he choked and bleed—or to let her wrap her strong hands around his fragile throat and either snap it or squeeze.

It would stop the guilt eating at him, stop the self-loathing and the building need to scream for forgiveness that he would never deserve or gain.

"It would make this easier for you if I killed you," she said lightly and he stared at her, hopefully and fearfully, and she smiled at him—there was nothing kind about the smile. "And that is why I won't kill you."

"W-what?" he stumbled over his words as he stared at her and suddenly her smile became gentle and she almost seemed human.

"Little Lord," she began, leaning casually against the doorframe. "People make mistakes all the time, from the lowest man, elf or dwarf to the highest god. Some mistakes a small, easy to fix—to forgive and forget—while others will fester and be there as a constant reminder of what you are capable of so you'll learn from it.

Some mistakes make you laugh while others make you want to die. Unfortunately for you, Little Lord, you've made a rather big mistake that makes you yearn for the release of death. But death, Little Lord, is the coward's choice. You must learn from this mistake and move on, make sure you never commit the same mistake again."

"Mistake?" he felt a rage that felt too old for his young body, a rage that made his arms tremble as he clenched his fists and glared at her. "I'm a mage,_ I_ made a deal with a _Demon_, _I_ gave my mind and body up to a _Demon_, I KILLED PEOPLE! SLAUGHTERED THEM! PEOPLE I WAS ONE DAY MEANT TO LEAD!"

Kiara remained unmoved from his anger and just stared at him with that still unimpressed gaze which only enraged him more. He wanted to scream at her more, to attack her—be it with his fists or his accused magic, he didn't care.

When she next spoke, her voice was softer than before and almost gentle.

"Sometimes I know what is going to happen before it does," she told him in matter-a-fact tone. "Once I ignored all that I knew and watched as people I cared for, people I loved, die." She stared at him with a hard gaze that was at odds with her voice. "I've learnt since then though sometimes I still need to let things happen, still have to stand by and watch as people are hurt or killed because I refuse to act. I have killed more than a hundred-times the amount of people that died because of your mistake and I meant to kill them.

You didn't mean for this to happen, this was just a mistake. A terrible mistake, but a mistake you will and must learn from. You have learnt that anyone can hide and trick people with honeyed words, you have learnt from your mother's mistake that you can't hide what you are—"

"My mother was trying to protect me," he protested and she just gave a laugh, hard and sharp and mocking.

"And look how that turned out!" she declared, for the first time raising her voice as she stood up straight and flung her arms out as a gesture to everything that was happening around him. "She brought in a mage that poisoned your father, she knew what had happened the moment you began to act strangely and the dead began to rise and she _still_ threw the only one that could potentially help into a cell!

She knew that the Demon was going to do something to Bann Teagan and she still made him come alone and without warning! She is a much to blame for this as you because of her foolish fear of mages!"

"It's because I'm a mage that this happened!" he shouted back and she made a disgusted noise.

"This could have still happened if you were just plain human," she told him almost cruelly. "You called out for help, desperate and afraid, and you knew what answered and you still struck a deal. It was only your magic that let you have some control over your body. Do not attempt to blame your magic or the fact you are a mage for what happened, I live with mages and I know more about the Fade and mages than you do, Little Lord. This happened because you were foolish and trusting, this happened because your mother was foolish and afraid. You will learn from this.

They will take you to the Tower soon and, by the Gods, that will be the safest place to be during this forsaken Blight. There you will need to learn, your self-loathing for you and your magic will just hinder your ability to learn to control yourself and your magic. You will need to learn or the Templars will control it for you.

And that may seem the easier option, but it means that you'll never feel the love for you family again, you will never be happy, never laugh, never dream and have almost no desires. You will stop being you and be a tool for both Templars and mages to use as they will."

Connor glared at the woman, he wanted to deny what she was telling him but it all rang true and he hated it and hated her. So consumed by both his hate and rage, he was shocked out of it by the candle by his bed bursting into flames and he stared in dismay at the wax melted rapidly.

There was a long moment of silence as the melted wax lingered and gathered on the dish and Connor could feel Kiara's stare on the side of his face.

"Do you understand now?" her voice was soft, gentle and almost kind, but he remembered her uncaring eyes and indifferent cruelty as she went for emotional blood and mental pain to prove her point.

"Yes," he swallowed thickly.

He caught Kiara nodding to herself from the corner of his eye and stayed silent as she silently left. For a moment he stood still in his room, staring at the melted wax and burnt ashes of the wick, and then his legs failed him and Connor cried.

He cried out all his fear, his hate and his anger. He grieved for the innocent child he had been, he grieved for the people that had died because of him. He cried as he worried about his father's uncertain future and the pain that acting like he didn't remember caused just so he didn't cause his mother anymore pain. He cried and sobbed, and whined in pain on the floor of his bedroom.

Just down the hallway, Kiara stood and leaned back against the wall as she listened to the child's cries. Children should be protected, Kiara had always thought that, but sometimes it hurt them more protecting them than it did letting them see and know the cruel truth of the world.

She had never physically harmed a child, she protected them as much as possible, and sometimes she had to be cruel to be kind. It was something she had learnt through the years, something she had honed as a teacher and godmother.

She would protect children—especially when they couldn't protect themselves—but she would never coddle or lie to them. If that meant she had to be cruel then so be it. Life wasn't nice, it wasn't fair, and it only hurt them in the end to let them believe that.

She would let them be children but she would never let them be ignorant. Ignorance wasn't bliss, it caused more pain than anything.

* * *

_Gods, Dumbledore would hate me if I ended up in the Harry Potter world. _

…_._

…_.._

_Fuck, I'm going to be a witch, aren't I?_

'_You're a witch, Kiara.'_

'_I'm a fucking what now?'_


	32. Chapter 32

Orzammar.

Malika had only heard stories about it from her grandpa's knee when he was into his cups and had thought she would never get to see the great underground city—the House Cadash had been exiled for a reason after all—and yet they were going there.

She would have been excited if it wasn't for Kiara's solemn mood as they got closer and closer—though Kiara had perked up when they added the Golem, Shale, to their group. It was almost like Kiara thought it wasn't going to be a quick in to remind them of their oath and out then off to Soldier's Peak.

Malika stumbled to a stop and stared at the protective arm that Kiara had wrapped around Morrigan's waist as they got closer and closer to the grand dwarven kingdom, and for a moment felt like she was going to be sick.

A cold feeling began to spread over her that had nothing to do with the snow they were wading through and her gaze searched for Faren—she had to tell him, to warn him, because something was going to happen, something was happening and Kiara was worried, and the last time Kiara had been worried things had gone tits up at Ostagar.

What the pissing hell was wrong with people to think a Blight was the best time to fuck everything up and go pissing mad?

* * *

Kiara remembered the Broodmothers, she remembered the disgust she felt when she first saw their twisted bodies on the screen and knew they would be much worst in real life. What was worst was that she just how Broodmothers were made.

Kiara had never been raped, but there had been close calls a few times, she had never eaten anything that resembled human flesh, but she had been tortured until she was mad. Because she was mad, she was insane, and if anyone knew how much madness she held in her head then they wouldn't trust and sure as hell wouldn't let her lose in the world.

There was too many women in their group, too many to avoid the eyes of the Darkspawn. And Kiara was afraid, she wanted to scream at them to stop, to bundle up her group in the night and say fuck the Blight and let the Wardens deal with Orzammar alone—hadn't she said she wasn't going to hold their hand all the way through? That she would let them make the tough choices? And Vala had almost died already! Why should she let her family be open to be attacked in such a way?!

It wasn't their duty, they didn't agree to such things, and who cared that she promised to help anyway? There was a reason there was wasn't that many women either in the Wardens or in the Legion of the Dead and it had everything to do with what they would face when they entered the Deeproads!

Perhaps she would have done that if she hadn't had to see Andra every morning and evening, hadn't had to see her blooming love with Alistair, didn't understand how close Malika was admitting to loving Faren, but she did and she knew she couldn't leave, couldn't abandon them, and she had to steel herself to be ready to protect them.

Sometimes Kiara really hated the fact that she had agreed to be Andra's mentor and had watched that little girl grow up into the woman leading them today.

Why couldn't she have just holed herself somewhere away from everyone and just let things happen as they may? Why did she always have to involve herself in matters that would resolve themselves without her? But no, she was always too curious or too protective or what-fucking-ever and ended up in the thick of things.

The Gods hated her and she knew it.

* * *

Sereda's heart was in her throat as they entered the mountain clearing that held the gates to Orzammar. She wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to return, and certainly not ready to face when she wasn't sure if she would hug him or run him through with her blade.

But the moment she glanced around her there was another reason for her heart to be in her throat. The clearing and such had been turned into a make-shift tent town with stalls set up and everything as surfaces dwarves and other traders talked amongst themselves—they weren't being let in to Orzammar and there was only one reason why.

She was running towards the steps and the large gates before she even thought about it, only half aware of the worried and concerned calls behind her as she forced her stupidly short legs to run faster and cursed that dwarves were built for strength and not speed.

She pushed passed the assembly of humans, the human noble squawking at her in outrage, and almost fell to her knees in front of the gates, breathing hard as the rest of her group caught up.

A light of recognition passed over the guards' faces as they stared down at her.

"My….father….?" she gasped out and a brief look of sympathy creased their hard faces.

"The King is dead," the younger of the two told her in a sorrowful tone, before he hardened his tone and added. "Kinslayer."

Sereda didn't ever flinch from her title as she almost swayed off her feet, gloved hands gripped her shoulders and her elbow as Lendanis—please call me Dani—gripped her shoulders and Faren had moved to hold her elbow as his lover, Malika, stared at her with quiet sympathy in her steel grey eyes.

"Excuse me!" the noble's squawking voice cut in. "I'm here on important business from King Loghain and I will not have you—ack!"

"King Loghain?" Kiara's voice was almost a purr as she traced her dagger against his too soft neck. "Funny how he seems to have gained a crown from his traitorous act."

"How dare you call him a traitor?" the noble's voice was surprisingly strong while his guards backed away from her in recognition and the dagger at his throat.

"Oh how I hate simpering fools," Kiara mused to herself before she glanced over to where Alistair was watching her, a hard look on his face as he stared at the noble. "Shall I slay this traitor, your Royal Highness?"

A scowl creased his features as Alistair glared at her before he stared at the noble man for a brief moment.

"Do what you will," Alistair allowed and Kiara smiled—she really needed to kill something at the moment—and the Companions herded the noble and his guards away from the Wardens as they began to talk with the Gate-Keepers.

* * *

Faren glanced back at Sereda as they made their way towards the palace, she was pale and didn't seem to really care where they were going and he hoped it stayed that way. Part of him—that he would have denied not too long ago—that felt sympathy for her, what a way to find out that your only living parent had kicked the stone when you were exiled, but another part was too fixed on Rica walking in front of him, dressed in silks and jewels, and happily round with child.

He had never seen Rica so happy, never seen her glowing with such contentment, and something deep in him warmed as she laughed as Ri licked her hand and stared at her with big brown eyes. He had never seen her as confident as she was when she met him before the Diamond Quarter. It was beautiful, she was beautiful, and Faren would kill anyone who tried to take that away from her.

If Sereda attempted to make a fuss about keeping Bhelen's ass firmly on the throne then Faren would stop her, he would slit her throat without hesitation and just some regret. She had become almost a friend during their time together, but a friend was nothing compared to his sister, to Rica, and her happiness.

* * *

Bhelen's study was rather large which was good since all the Wardens, Companions and the allies could sit, stand or lean around it without too much crowding.

It was only because of Rica that they had been able to get to see him personally. Bhelen had given one unreadable look towards his older sister before he focused on Andra and Alistair.

Kiara just stood back, leaning against the seat that Morrigan had claimed, and silently approved. On her first play-through of Dragon Age, she had chosen Horrowmont which she was sure most people did thinking he was the good guy and then the ending came and you saw what a dick he was as king.

Bhelen was a dick yeah, and he planned for his sister to kill their older brother in a way that he couldn't be blamed and made it so she was exiled, but he was a good king and gave the dwarven kingdom the needed push.

Yeah tradition was all well and good, it should be respected and remembered, but not to the level that it would isolate and stagnant a society—she was really going to piss off people if she ended up in the Harry Potter world.

"Did you kill our father?" Sereda's choked out in a lull of the conversation.

Bhelen looked at his sister.

"Why would I kill him so soon after I got you banished and Trian dead?" Bhelen asked and Sereda nodded like that was an actual answer.

Gods, dwarves played a more deadly game then the Orlesians, Kiara thought to herself, torn between amused and annoyed.

"We'll help you claim Father's throne," Sereda stated firmly.

"Oh goody," Elion drawled. "Can we go kill something now we've all agreed to that?"

"You're a rather blood-thirsty elf, aren't you?" Vartag Gavorn asked looking vaguely approving as Elion smirked.

"You have no pissing idea," Malika snorted.

* * *

"I detest these small fleshy things staring at me so," Shale complained to Sereda—the dwarven Warden that had activated her after so long and the fleshy mortal was surprisingly enough becoming close to a friend.

"Golems have a long history with the dwarves," Sereda told the hulking stone form. "It was only the creation of golems like you that saved us during the earlier Blights. You're a walking, talking, piece of history here."

Shale grunted as they made their way towards gaping arch and through it to the Deeproads.

"Makes me want to crush them like those flying fiends," Shale commented making Faren laugh slightly from in front of them.

The group had split into smaller groups with one group—Faren, Sereda, Shale, Sten, Wynne, Lelianna and Lendanis—were sent to the Aeducan Thaig to bring back Lord Dace on the behalf of his daughter to gain his vote for Bhelen, another group—Andra, Alistair, Melima and Leona—were sent to spread their support and give the rest of the Promissory notes to certain lords while the Companions—plus Zevran and Morrigan who were basically Companions anyway—had gone to take care of the Carta.

The hounds had been left behind at the Palace to Rica's delight, Faren had been pleased to note that Bhelen seemed to honestly care about keeping Rica happy.

"You can't crush everything that annoys you," Wynne reminded Shale making the golem grumble about the 'Elder Mage'—that had been the least offensive nickname that the golem came up with making Alistair suggest wryly that she was allergic to real names.

Sereda smiled slightly, it was strained though. She hated every step that brought them closer to the Aeducan Thaig and where she had killed her brother, the place where her whole world changed. She wondered if his blood was still there or had the Deepstalkers lapped it up like Nugs did with milk?

* * *

"Remember the days that this used to be hard work?" Elion asked as he crouched down beside another dwarven corpse and rummaged through its pockets and such.

Malika snorted as she wiped some blood off her face with the back of her hand.

"We must have been so pissing cute back then," she grinned at him making Ellana shake her head from where she stood, half-crouched, beside Vala and making sure the younger elf hadn't torn anything open during the battle to Vala's long suffering fondness.

"We still have to kill the Top Bitch," Kiara reminded them, stretching and cracking her bones out. "Then we can all drink ourselves silly for a job well done."

"Things were never so bloody in Antiva," Zev complained as he wiped the blood of his daggers making Saya snort as she glanced at the tanned elf—the assassin from Antiva's famous order says that Antiva wasn't bloody? What a load of bullshit as Kiara would say.

"This is why we aren't assassins, Little Crow," Elion snorted as he straightened up. "We have all the subtly of Malika with a warhammer."

"Oi!" Malika shouted in mock offense.

Morrigan kept her silence, she knew she wasn't alone in noticing something was off with Kiara, but she was reasonably assured that she was the only one that saw the shadow of fear in her dark eyes when Kiara thought no one was looking.

Morrigan was certain that it had nothing to do with the Carta branch they were culling, Kiara and Malika met whilst culling a rival Carta branch. But what could put such fear in Kiara's eyes?

* * *

**AN: So here is another chapter, I'm not sure how to write up the Paragon quest into the Deeproads and I'm sorry if you wished to see them collect Shale but I couldn't think of a way to write that. **

**Some of you have been wondering when I'd bring out my Harry Potter fic, would you like me to start it and post it alongside this? Beware there could be some spoilers for this fic in it if I do. **

**I also want to know if you would like to know what other places I will sent our unfortunate hero to? **


	33. Chapter 33

"Let me get this straight," Kiara interrupted, a scowl creasing her face and holding Morrigan's hand with a white knuckled intensity. "You want us, a group that is most females I may add, to go deep into the Deeproads where Darkspawn are crawling around to find a Paragon that may or may not be alive?"

Bhelen frowned at the human woman.

"Is there a problem?" he asked in annoyance and she glared at him like he wasn't a prince, like he wasn't about to become King, and it was almost humbling in a strange way.

"Broodmothers," was all she had to say for his gaze to dart towards his sister and the blood leave his face.

Sereda, his sister who he had betrayed, his sister that was always the most beloved by their father, his sister who had always loved him, who had taken time to play with him when they were little, who had taught him how to handle a sword, who had held him when their mother had died, who taught him how to get back at Trian without getting caught, who had never looked down on him.

He had betrayed her, used to her to kill Trian and moved the Assembly to banish her, but he had never wanted her dead, not really, and he had known, _known_, that the Wardens were taking the Deeproads, that she would survive easily long enough to find them and had known Gorim would sneak her a weapon or two. She had always been strong, strong in a way that Bhelen couldn't be.

And for all his thinking, all his plans, he had never thought that the Darkspawn wouldn't be attempting to kill her but attempting to turn her into a Broodmother.

He felt sick in a way that he had not felt for a long time as he stared at his sister's pale features.

"I didn't…." he choked out because while he may have planned for her to kill Trian, may have come to uneasy peace that she could die before she got to the Grey Wardens, he had never wanted such a fate for her.

"I know," Sereda's voice was weak but steady when she replied.

"We don't have enough men," Alistair sounded like he hated saying the truth as he reached for Andra's hand. "Jowan isn't a healer…."

"But I am," Wynne spoke up strongly. "And I'm well past the age to be of interest in them."

"I'm not made of weak flesh," Shale reminded them in a deep rumble. "I can go and crush these accursed creatures."

"That's not enough," Andra objected, the voice of reason. "Not to go into the Deeproads."

"We can't send anymore Wardens," Morrigan spoke up, ignoring the way that Kiara's hand clenched tighter around her hand. "Any more and the whole Darkspawn population will be brought down on to our heads."

"Our?" Kiara's voice sounded both dangerous and fearful at the same time and Morrigan stared right into her lover's eyes.

"Of course, I'll be going," Morrigan said smoothly and Kiara's grip twitched. "If only to make sure that the Fool doesn't mess things up."

"Morrigan…" Kiara trailed off.

"I will not ask you to come with me," Morrigan told her almost gently and Kiara closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to their clasped hands.

"Because you know I'll follow you anyway," Kiara muttered and Morrigan didn't deny it.

"Kiara…." Malika's eyes were wide and fearful as she stared at her and Kiara's heart clenched in pain.

Malika could somewhat handle the Blight and fighting the Darkspawn, but Kiara couldn't, wouldn't, ask her to go down into the Deeproads.

"You need to watch over the others," Kiara kept her voice strong as relief and fear mingled across Malika's face. "Make sure Logan doesn't attempt to follow me."

"Kiara…" Malika trailed off, her expression torn as she wanted to be there, to protect both her lover and sister, but some fears were too great and Malika couldn't go down there, not knowing just what lay in its dark depths.

"I know," Kiara said simply and Malika hated herself and hated Kiara for being so understanding.

"I will follow you," Saya declared strongly and Kiara's head snapped towards her Qunari sister.

"No," Kiara said, shaking her head. "I can't ask you to do that."

"But you are not asking," Saya pointed out. "I'm volunteering, you are my sister. You helped me through a dark time in my life, let me help you through this."

Kiara almost choked; 'don't die for me,' she wanted to plead, 'don't sacrifice yourself for me' she wanted to tell her, but she knew Saya wouldn't hear of it. Kiara knew Saya too well, she knew her Qunari sister wouldn't even think of not sacrificing herself for her. Foolish, loyal and protective Saya.

Ellana and Elion stared at each other, speaking without speaking in a way only twins could, and Ellana's face crumbled slightly before hardening in a mask of uneasy acceptance as she took Vala's hand in her own.

"Zev and I will help," Elion declared and after a moment of Zev staring at him, startled, the Antivan nodded and an arrogant smirk crossed his darkly tanned face.

"But of course," he began and tossed his dark blonde hair back with one toss of his head. "I am the master of killing in the dark, I would loath to deprave you of my services."

It was decided, and Kiara wanted to scream.

* * *

Andra hated feeling useless as it reminded her of the last time she felt useless—Oren, Oren, dead and gone and she had done nothing, hadn't even know he was dead and she should have known, she was his aunt! She was meant to protect him!—and hid her trembling fists behind Alistair's back as she clung to him.

She could feel his shaky breath against her neck and part of her wondered if she would ever feel that again, if she would ever feel his warmth against her again, if she would ever feel the easy strength in his arms as he held her again.

"I'm glad," Alistair whispered hoarsely into her neck. "So very and selfishly glad that you aren't coming, that you won't be exposed to it."

"Alistair," Andra clutched him tighter, hands attempting to find a hold on the back of his steel chest plate.

A quick brush of lips and a whisper of love was their goodbye before Alistair tore himself away from her and strode towards the gaping mouth of the Deeproads. He didn't look back, he couldn't she knew, and she stood there, her hands fisted uselessly in the silk dress that Rica had ordered for her, and had to keep herself rooted to stop herself dashing forward like some silly maiden from the stories and beg Alistair not to go.

She tore her gaze away from Alistair's back and watched the others' gather their packs and weapons and follow him—another warrior had joined them, Oghern who was apparently the Paragon's husband—and she met the gaze of Kiara with hard blue eyes—she would not cry, not here, not now, not when she had barely stopped crying over her family.

Kiara nodded at her before she turned, sliding one arm around Morrigan's slim waist and her other hand resting on her sword hilt, and Andra relaxed a little because she knew that Kiara would protect Alistair.

Andra could rest easier knowing that Kiara would be there to protect her lover.

Melima's hand rested on her shoulder and Andra covered her hand with her own pale one and watched as their backs disappeared into the darkness of the Deeproads.

Maker watch over them, she prayed for the first time since her family was killed.

* * *

Malika hadn't gone to say goodbye, she had done it in the relative safety of their room and had clung to them like she had never before. She had finally told Faren that she loved him, she couldn't let him go without telling him and told him that he better come back and say if he loved her too—she couldn't hear him say 'I love you' and then let him go—and hugged Kiara, Saya, Elion and even Morrigan and Zevran goodbye and told them to be safe.

She could hear Ellana praying to her elven gods and begging them to keep her family safe while Vala attempted to sooth Logan's and Ri's pained whimpers as if they both knew their masters were in terrible danger.

"FUCK!" Malika shouted, sending the table besides her crashing to the floor with one angry swipe of her arm.

Never before had she felt so useless and weak as the moment she didn't speak up, didn't tell Kiara that of course she was going with them, and hated the thought that she was too weak, too afraid, to take her rightfully place beside Kiara, beside her sister, and protect her flank as she had done since they'd met and first worked together. That she wasn't there to protect Faren, to stand beside him and make sure he came back in one piece. By the Paragon, by the Maker, by all the pissing Gods, she was too weak.

She hardly felt Vala's arms wrap around her as she fell to her knees with a shuddering cry and was only aware that Ellana had wrapped them both in her arms when she began to sing a Dalish lullaby with Ri's howl adding haunting sound to it while Logan pressed tightly against her side.

* * *

Kiara was selfish, she had always been selfish and she believed she had gotten more selfish as the years went by and she died and lived again and again like she was trapped in some sort of twisted game.

She was glad, so very selfishly glad, that she had been able to keep some of her family from entering the Deeproads and she was very afraid that something would happen to those she had brought with her.

Saya, Elion, Morrigan and even Faren and Zevran.

They were hers to protect, but she swore an oath to both Maric and Andra that she would protect Alistair as well as she could.

(The ages papers that she had in one of her books—written and autographed by Varric Tethras—hidden in the pack she had left in her room—more like suit of rooms—in the palace weighed in the back of her mind. Ferelden wouldn't ever have to be uncertain about Alistair's right to Maric's throne, Kiara had made sure of that.

Alistair's ass would be planted firmly on the throne of Ferelden and no one would be able to claim that it was some Warden Coup nor would they be able to say Alistair wasn't Maric's son. Kiara had made sure of that when Maric was still alive and she had kept the proof safe.)

She would keep them all safe, she swore it by all the Gods that would hear her.

She would not, could not, fail.

* * *

**AN: This is just a filler chapter and I will admit I'm not sure how to continue with this Deeproads quest fully so it may take a while. Since so many people would like to see the Harry Potter fanfiction, I'll have that up as soon as possible. **

**Possible worlds that I'm thinking of letting our hero let lose in are Game of Thrones, Mass Effect—still need to finish the last game—, Skyrim,—despite the fact I still haven't finished the blasted game—Vampire Academy,—still need to finish the last book—and Naruto—will need to refresh my memory for that though.**

**Please tell me your thoughts and feelings of these possible worlds and which you'd like to see first and what you'd like to see in said story. Also feel free to request a world of you own, I can't promise if or when I do it because I may have to research into it but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts. **


	34. Chapter 34

The first enemies that they faced wasn't Darkspawn or Deepstalkers but some of Horrowmont men. Kiara had barely let them say who they served and how they would stop them and bleh, bleh, bleh, before she was stabbing and slitting throats.

She had no time for fools and wanted to get this over with as much as possible.

Fucking Deeproads, fucking Blights, fucking mad Paragons, fucking Broodmothers, fucking Duncan for not actually telling the women he was making Wardens what could happen to them if they survived the Joining and Ostagar.

Her next life? She was staying out things, she was just going to a relative normal person and keep out of the spot light. Just let things happen as they may and all that shit.

* * *

Morrigan almost grimaced as she stepped over the pools of blood and wondered if she shouldn't have tried to make Kiara stay with the other women—it was too late for such thoughts, she knew. The Deeproads was obviously not good for her, but Morrigan couldn't not go. She had to, she had to make sure Alistair lived so she could go through the ritual to save the Wardens—she had mostly muddled out how to add Kiara's blood to the child to make it have three parents—as she had come somewhat fond of a few of them, like one would an unruly pet.

She knew she wasn't going to ask Kiara to help with her Flemeth problem—she would not risk Kiara, but she would risk some of the Wardens. She would not become Flemeth's puppet, she wouldn't, not now, not when she and Kiara just….she was getting sentimental. If she was sure of anything, it was that Kiara would kill Flemeth before she complete such a ritual. Kiara may respect Flemeth, but she loved Morrigan after all.

Still, she wouldn't risk Kiara, she couldn't.

* * *

Perhaps if it wasn't a Blight and they weren't in a hurry—Kiara had actually taken over from where he and Oghern had been leading them, muttering as she did and her sword out and ready—Alistair thought he would quite like to examine the ruins of the dwarven Deeproads.

The rune like language that he kept getting glimpses of fascinated him in a way that had gotten him into trouble back when he was training to be a Templar—apparently it wasn't encouraged or approved of for a Trainee to have an active interest in magic and mystic such and all that.

The ways he had to hid his rune ring from the disapproving gazes of the Mother and Sisters was quite genius if he said so himself.

As a Grey Warden, Alistair would admit to forgetting what Darkspawn blood could do to those without the taint running through their veins and had been surprised how Kiara had made sure everyone not a Warden or made of stone—which was only him, Faren and Shale—were covered almost fully by some type of armour or cloth protecting their mouths from any stray black blood.

"Do you actually know where we're going?" Elion called out and Kiara didn't glance back.

"She took my map," Oghern grunted and Elion actually stopped and stared at the red-headed dwarf.

"She doesn't know how to read maps," Elion deadpanned and Morrigan actually sighed before marching up to her lover and snatching the map so she could read.

"Luckily I do," Morrigan muttered. "How don't you know how to read a map?"

"Hey," Kiara actually sounded a little offended. "I can guess the whereabouts of cities and towns."

"Can you tell how to get there?" Morrigan asked and Kiara was telling silent. "I thought so."

Alistair walked near Saya, Elion, Zevran and Faren.

"If she can't read maps," Alistair began. "You leads the way normally?"

"Malika does," Saya answered easily.

"She's been around Kiara the longest so she covers Kiara's weaknesses," Elion shrugged. "There is a reason why they aren't normally apart."

"So," Alistair began in a light tone. "I should keep maps away from Kiara. Anything else?"

Saya and Elion shared a look.

"I don't like that look," Alistair decided. "I don't want to know."

* * *

"I forgot how close the ceiling was," Faren sounded thoughtful as he tilted his head back, he sat on his rolled out bedroll—they had decided to set up camp and rest, they were near the point where they would no longer be following the old roads.

They had left the tents in Orzammar as they were heavy and they knew they would have to break camp at any sign of Darkspawn. Also some of the tunnels they were going to go through was just too small for tents.

"Close? Bah, you call that close?" Oghern grunted before he took a long pull of his large flask. "Wait till we leave the 'roads and head into Darkspawn territory—some of their ceilings are bleeding closer than this."

"And to think," Zev spoke up from where he laid his bedroll close to Elion's. "You people actually chose to live down here."

"And what's wrong with down here, knife-ear?" Oghern asked.

"The air is musky, you are surrounded by Darkspawn, you don't have any real concept of night and day," Elion shrugged. "And that's just off the top of my head."

"Jowan?" Wynne's voice was politely frosty. "Could you put a few fires around the camp? I think it would ease some minds to be able to see if something was going to sneak up on us."

Jowan just nodded, Faren had noticed that he didn't seem to talk to anyone apart from Lendanis—who was back at Orzammar—and noticed he gave Wynne almost as wide a birth as he did Kiara.

Faren couldn't blame him, the first thing that Kiara had really done after they got Connor unpossessed back in Redcliffe was punch the Blood-mage in the face though Faren was sure that Jowan thought himself lucky that he only got a single punch—that may have set him on his ass—instead of the talking that Kiara gave the Arlessa—if insults, harsh truth and going for the emotional jugular classed as a 'talk' to Kiara, which knowing her, it probably did.

Wynne was polite in a very cold way, sometimes Faren had to check himself for frostbite after hearing her talk to Jowan—and Wynne only talked to him, she never talked with him. She had never raised a hand or her staff to him, she didn't have to, because her thick disapproval was like its own weapon.

Faren, himself, wasn't impressed with the newest mage who only seemed to have the trust of Lendanis and the tentative trust of Leona. He had heard tales of Blood-mages on the surface and he had expected something different, something more, when it came to seeing the Blood-mage that apparently caused the event at Redcliffe. He had expected a mage like from the Tower when he first heard about the Blood-mage responsible and instead they had Jowan—and all the fucker had done was attempt to teach, badly most likely, and poison the Arl, which he actually did rather well.

"OI! That's mine!" Oghern's angry shout tore Faren from his watching of Jowan and towards where Kiara stood with Oghern's flask held high with her superior height as the dwarf glared at her.

"And when you wake up in the morning, you'll be expecting to drink as much water as you like," Kiara retorted. "Unless you didn't realise, there isn't a lot of sources of water this far down and I'm not letting you waste the water we have because you can't deal with your shitty life and prefer to drink your sorrow away."

Faren winced in slight sympathy, Kiara wasn't pulling any punches and truthfully he couldn't blame her. He had spent his whole life below the stone, and he knew its protective feel. This place? This was tainted and wrong and made him want to leave as soon as possible—which unfortunately wasn't happening anytime soon as they had to find the Paragon from wherever she disappeared to looking for a legend and bring her back. What the stupid woman was thinking, Faren would never know.

It was a battle of wills and wisely everyone else was staying out of it; Wynne was focusing on making sure the fires that Jowan conjured didn't attempt to spread, Alistair seemed to have gone deaf as he cleaned his sword while Sten was lovingly sharpening his blade—his apparent soul.

Morrigan didn't look up from where she was reading that black rune covered book, she had spread herself almost lazily on the larger bedroll that she shared with Kiara, Saya simply watched from where she was leaning against the wall. Zevran had paused in his helping of Elion setting up traps while the other elf ignored it all, clever hands moving swiftly and without pause in the dim light.

"Fine," Oghern flopped back down. "Have it your way, you moody bitch."

Kiara didn't even look a bit insulted as she went to her bedroll and threw the flask in her bag without a glance back. As she sat down, Morrigan reached out without looking and placed a calming hand on Kiara's thigh.

Some tension leaked from her frame and Kiara decided she would sharpen and clean her numerous blades—Faren was sure that Kiara had more blades then they all did put together.

"So," Alistair broke the awkward silence. "Who wants some dried meat?"

Faren snorted as the Templar pulled out some of the dried meat they had packed to keep them going.

* * *

_I had never had a problem with tight spaces before, it was crowds that used to make me panic. But the Deeproads? They were different, the air was stale and musky, decay and taint was all you could smell and I could almost feel the Darkspawn watching us, waiting for us to let down our guards._

_I had to keep the others close, keep Morrigan close, and I knew I wouldn't be sleeping much during this quest. _

_Fucking mad dwarves, they always fucked things up._

* * *

Zevran, for once, felt more comfortable close to Kiara. Of course the human was tense and seemed to be ready to stab everything, which actually made Zev feel just a little safer in this Deeproads.

He never missed Antiva more than in this moment, they didn't have the troubles that Ferelden did with the Deeproads.

He had thought he was prepared for the darkness in the Deeproads but would now admit he was wrong. He had expected more old runes for light, but most of them were damaged in a way that made them unusable so only a few lit up the destroyed tunnels. He knew it would get worse until it would be total blackness, and he did not feel comfortable fighting in complete darkness as it was so easy to hit an ally instead of an enemy.

Thankfully Saya had explained, in her low and growly voice, that she often lit up the orb of her scythe-staff when they ever entered dark tunnels and she can increase the intensity of it as it got deeper without haven't much drain on her mana.

Zev decided that after this, he was staying far away from Deeproads.

* * *

Jowan had never been particularly powerful when it came to magic, not like Lendanis who had been classed as a Battle mage nor was he skilled enough to be a healer like Leona, who was handpicked by Wynne as her appreciate. The Harrowing had been denied from him, he had watched others go through their Harrowings—appreciates that he had grown up with and learned with—while he remained a lowly appreciate with just Lendanis as his only friend until Lendanis was taken to her Harrowing one night and came back as a full blown Enchanter after the quickest Harrowing that anyone had ever seen.

He had thought he had a little longer, but the moment he saw the Templar lay Lendanis on her bed and heard the gossip from the other appreciates, he knew he had run out of time.

Blood-magic had given him the power he needed, the boost he needed, but it had cost him Lily, it had cost him his home and almost his life.

Lendanis—Dani—hadn't even hesitated to save him like she hadn't hesitated to help him back at the Tower.

He wasn't sure if he was suited for the life of a Warden and he worried about the Joining that Dani told him he would have to go through to become a full Warden. He had asked, wondering perhaps a bit bitterly, why he hadn't had this Joining and she had admitted that none of them knew what was involved in a Joining, not really, and they would have to wait for older Wardens to come from Orlais to go through with it.

Jowan had never been brave like Dani, hadn't ever had the quiet strength of will that Leona had. He hadn't been chosen to be a Warden, becoming a Warden was the only way Dani knew to save him, and he vowed silently to himself, ignoring Wynne's disapproving gaze, that he wouldn't fail her again.

Because those Lily's horror and disgust had hurt him, Dani's look of betrayal and horror pained him more. He would never put such an expression on her face again, that he swore.

* * *

**AN: A Magical Life has been put up and it's about her life in the Harry Potter world so check it out and tell me if you like it. **

**As you probably tell, I'm having trouble with this so I'm focusing more on the characters feelings and thoughts instead of the Deeproads, but hopefully I'll be able to give you some action soon. **

**Other worlds I'm considering putting our hero through is Supernatural, Teen Wolf and Lord of the Rings/Hobbit movie verse. **

**Confirmed worlds so far is Mass Effect and Game of Thrones so tell me if there is anything that you would especially like to see in them. I also have a question; should our hero be part of the Nobles Houses and if yes, which house? Stark? Lannister? Tyrell? Baratheon? Greyjoy? Bolton? Mormont? Targaryen? Arryn? Martell? Other?**

**Anyway, please tell me what you think.**


	35. Chapter 35

Varric sat back in his seat at the Hanged Man and observed the group surrounding one of the Hanged Man's larger tables.

Garrett Hawke wasn't the most cheerful of men, he stood straight and sat straight with shoulders set and holding the burden of protecting his family. He frowned a hell of a lot more than he smiled, his face seemed forever creased in worry. He only had a soft side for his sisters and mother, not so much for his brother—Varric smelt a story there.

A pragmatic man that had judged that the Smugglers gave them the chance of actually living to see themselves as 'free' people while being a hired-sword could pay more money but in the end could get them killed—something he coolly pointed out to his rash younger brother, Varric had decided to nickname that Hawke Junior as he seemed to hate being compared and found lacking next to his older siblings. His chosen staff was more like a polearm, a double-edged blade at one end and a simple enough weight at the other, and he didn't shy away from using it as such.

Varric decided he would nickname that one Turtle—hard-shell but soft-underbelly, and frankly he thought it would be amusing to see his face when Varric dropped that name.

His twin sister on the other hand was very different from her brother despite the fact that they both looked alike expect for having different coloured eyes. Marian Hawke smiled while her brother's frowned. Petite and slight, very different from her twin's tall form or her younger brother's tall and bulky form, or even her slender younger sister but she was very quick especially with those curved double-ended and edged blades. She was the talker of the family, the one that spoke to the clients and other people and set them at ease in a way that he had never seen before. She was mild-spoken with a bright smile and people seemed to respond to her, but that didn't mean she was a pusher over.

Turtle may think himself as the sole protector of his family, but Varric had heard of his sister cruising for side-jobs here and there, and taking down certain Carta thugs that wanted to have a few words with Gamlen and didn't worry about bashing a few innocent family members' heads in as they did.

Frankly, she reminded him of a less jaded, more cheerful and carefree, and far less bloodthirsty version of Kiara. That's why Varric gave her the nickname Blade and wondered what Kiara would do if his Blade ended up taking her title of the Queen of Blades?

Junior obviously chafed under the shadows of his more impressive older siblings that were making names for themselves in Kirkwall, though he seemed to have a better relationship with his older sister then his brother. He was protective of his sister, Bethany, and his mother and almost lost his life to an Ogre if rumours were to believed—something that Varric did after taking them with a bit of salt as it was amazing how right some rumours were.

Bethany Hawke was like a ray of sunshine and Varric worried about her the most. Young thing, a bitter little undertone to her which wasn't surprising considering she was a mage, but gentle in a way that didn't survive long in Kirkwall. Luckily for her, her older siblings were all keen to protect her.

The soldier they had picked up, Aveline, had easily joined the guards and frankly she scared him in a way that was very different to how Kiara did. The tall red head was big on honour, justice and the law in a way that was not seen often in Thedas and rarely in Kirkwall. She was a Mabari with a bone when working and never seemed to take a proper break expect when she would come for a few drinks with the Hawkes.

Overall, Varric could understand why Kiara seemed so interested in this family. Kirkwall was going to be an interesting place from now on.

* * *

Elion had seen Kiara in many states before; he had seen her shaking with fear as she furiously attacked Giant Spiders, he had seen her loud and affectionate when Malika got her to get drunk, he had seen her haunted look in the middle of the night when she thought they were all asleep, he had seen the utter joy in her eyes when she's surrounded by them, he had seen the look of love that softened her face when she looked at Morrigan, he had seen her shoulders shake with grief though she never let tears fall, he had seen her furious and unstoppable.

Elion would admit he hadn't seen this state of hers before.

Kiara was afraid, even a blind man would be able to tell that, but her limbs didn't shake and she never hesitated as they tracked deeper into the dark bowels of the Deeproads. She was furious in a way that Elion had never seen her before, quiet and deadly. Her body was tense and yet she seemed to move more fluidly then she normally did.

And the way she killed, Kiara had always been a rather messy killer—blood splattering across her face and body, blood making the handle of her blades slick though her grip remained impossibly firm—which had concerned him when she first decided she was fighting against the Blight—Malika made sure they all knew what Darkspawn blood could do to someone. Here, now, as they moved further into the dark, Kiara became cleaner and deadly.

No thrust wasted, no unnecessary movement, her footsteps not even the whisper he was used to. She seemed to melt into the darkness, into the deep shadows that even Zev gave hesitate looks to using, and she would strike from behind or the side—always when the Darkspawn was more invested with killing the Wardens then the others, she took ruthless advantage to the Darkspawn blindness to them and took them down with one or two strikes of her blade.

There was something cold in her eyes and settling into the planes of her face that Elion had only witnessed briefly once. A group of Qunari thought they could take Saya from them and Kiara showed them that they were very much mistaken. It unnerved him to see it settle on her face now and stay, that her face and eyes grew colder as they got closer to the lost Paragon.

If they didn't really need this bitch, Elion would have cheerfully stabbed her in the eye with one of his arrows repeatedly for putting such a look on Kiara's face and taking him so far away from Ellana.

* * *

Faren woke with a gasp, attempting to lunge forward without success as something was holding him down.

"You'll wake everyone up," Alistair told him softly from beside him, his strong arms locked around Faren and keeping in the mess of bedrolls they had taken to sleep in.

"I saw…" he shuddered.

"I know," Alistair tone was full of empathy and Faren knew that his fellow Warden had seen it to—a marching army of twisted beings, listening to a wordless song, and baying for the blood of any that cross their path of death.

The part of him that had always protected Rica—from the moment he could walk and hold a dagger in his meaty hand—was almost relieved that the Darkspawn was heading towards the surface, away from Rica and her unborn child, away from her place of safety in that stone palace.

Bhelen, he knew, would take care of Rica, make sure she was safe and taken care of. He may have pitted his siblings against each other to get the throne, he may be a lying bastard to his fellow nobles, but Faren was certain that he cared deeply for Rica.

But that thought was overturned by terror. They were meant to fight that? An army that outnumbered the handful of mages that survived the purge on the Tower, whatever army Bhelen saw fit to send to their aid and whatever army that Redcliffe still had after their nights of the living dead? They were dead, done, and only the Wardens knew it.

It was almost enough to make him run and Faren Brosca had never been a coward, he had not flinched away from anything since he was six and finally stood up to his abusive mother.

But then he thought of Rica, believing in him like she had always done, and he thought of Malika, who had harshly whispered her words of love before she had turned away and threw her arms around Kiara's waist, he thought of Alistair beside him, who had the most understanding of their group and was still heading towards what could their death, he thought of Kiara who was somewhere in the pile curled around Morrigan and with Saya curled around her frame with her hands reaching to clasp Elion's arm and one of her own blades, she had known all of this and yet she was still here, had still come down into this forsaken darkness, and was still fighting.

He couldn't, wouldn't, run. He would keep fighting and hope to all that Paragons that had forsaken him, to the Maker that wasn't his own, to the Ancient gods that Elion, Melima and Ellana worn on their skin, that he didn't die, that he lived through this to the bitter end, that he got to see his nephew, got to see Rica all done up in silks and with a pretty crown on her head, got to kiss Malika again, to feel her warmth against him and around him, got to admit he loved her too and by the stone he was going to follow that crazy woman anywhere.

* * *

Morrigan knew the arms that held her close, she remembered when they weren't so strong and muscular but had still kept her safe. She knew the hands that she brushed her fingers against as they clasped a tanned arm and the hilt of a sword, she remembered when they were soft and the skin only started to thicken. She knew the heartbeat under her ear, a reassuring beat that lulled her to sleep.

Morrigan had always been afraid of being caged, of being confined and restricted in what she could do. Flemeth had never caged her, just impressed upon her in anyway what could happen because of the dangers outside their little hovel.

Kiara had never caged her, had followed her trustingly into the Wilds and had only truly once had denied her what she had wanted. She had wanted Kiara to stay and Kiara had left with a promise that she would be back—Morrigan would have caged Kiara then and there if she had even the slightest clue that it would take a decade to come back.

Orzammar had never interested Morrigan, the thought of living under a mountain had frightened her as a child so much so that she had almost laughed when she finally stepped foot under the stone and realised how little it truly bothered her.

The Deeproads was too much like her childhood memories of her nightmares for her comfort.

Morrigan would admit only to herself as they rested, and the wards and enchantments kept them safe, that she would be in a worse state if Kiara wasn't there. Morrigan was glad, so selfishly glad, that Kiara followed her and that she stood by her, and knew her younger self would probably be horrified how dependent Morrigan had become, how in love she had become, but Morrigan didn't care.

For nothing could truly harm her as long as Kiara lived and breathed, and Morrigan knew that with fierce certainty that nothing would shake.

* * *

**AN: Short chapter I know, but I promise my next one will be longer and hopefully have action in it for you. Please review and give me your thoughts.**

**This chapter is in thanks to , who without, I'd still be stuck in the Hanged Man wishing I was with Varric instead of in the Deeproads. **

**Also some have already decided on what House they want Kiara belong to in Game of Thrones. The first three families that had been requested are Lannister, Stark and Targaryen. Tell me what you think of those and which would suit her best? If you have any idea of how she'll go about joining those houses, they please let me know as I love reading your thoughts and ideas.**


	36. Chapter 36

In theory, the Archdemon was just a twisted dragon. Kiara had dealt with dragons, there was nowhere in Thedas that didn't have some sort of dragon nest somewhere, and the Companions had actually fought dragons in the past—tucked deep in their Compound in Highever there was a number of dragon-bone armour and drake-scale armour, which they should have really taken with them but the fact is dragon armour are too heavy to just cart around in their packs.

The surface dragons had always put a thrill of fear in her veins, but they had nothing when compared to this.

Large, black skin that clung to bone and lean muscle, the stink of the taint was overwhelming and the flames it breathed was as corrupted as its skin as it called down to the army that followed it. The stone bridge under its clawed hands groaned and broke as it took flight, screaming out its desire for blood.

Staring down at them from their perch, peering down into the chasm at the army that marched with a single-minded determination, well Kiara could finally understand why the Wardens would one day think it's a good idea to summon demons and attempt to kill the rest of the Archdemons.

"Oh Maker," Wynne breathed out in horror and Kiara gripped Morrigan's hand, hard, and glanced at Elion, Saya and Zevran—she was fiercely glad that Malika had stayed behind now, even though it felt like she was missing a limb.

Saya's hands were trembling, her knuckles actually turning white as she gripped her staff, and ice was cracking around her feet, begging its Mistress to set it on the source of her fear.

"You know I was still mad about Ostagar?" Elion whispered and Kiara barely inclined her head. "I forgive you. I also would like to add that Kirkwall really isn't that bad this time of year."

Kiara would have smiled but fear had frozen her face and had turned her feet to clay—it took so much more than she was expecting not to flee, to turn around and blindly run like Kiara had never allowed herself, to take those that were hers and say fuck you and hid away, but she knew there was no running from this, you can't outrun a Blight. Not even Hydra or the Nazis had ever frightened her as much as that Archdemon and its army.

It was Morrigan's hand trembling in her own that made her draw on her last dregs of courage and strength, and fake the rest, and Kiara bought her lover close and pressed a kiss to ebony hair—greasy though it was because of weeks of travel in the deep earth—and silently promised that she would protect her.

"Stone-blind beasts," a male voice called almost as soon as the Archdemon was out of sight. "You're no nightmare to us!"

"What the—?" Elion cut himself off and he spun around, drawing an arrow and knocking without thought.

"The Legion," Faren grunted, tense and wary as they headed towards the sound of battle.

_Great, I had become one of those idiots that threw themselves into battle and ran towards it_, Kiara thought though she didn't hesitate to add her blade to the Legion of the Dead.

* * *

"_**I can't let you do this," Kiara's voice was strong and fierce, she would not back down, she would not let this happen. **_

_**She reached out to stop him and he spun to face her, magic lancing from his hands to her body. His gaze widened at her unarmed state and she stumbled, her eyes wide as she stared down at the burnt, torn and bloody hole that had been the right side of her torso. **_

_**She shuddered, blood leaking from her lips as her knees failed and she fell.**_

_**Morrigan's horrified and tortured scream filled the air as she moved, arms out-stretched to grab her lover and hold her close.**_

Flemeth woke with a gasp, her daughter's scream echoing in her ears, and sat hunched in her bed as she stared at her hands.

Sometimes the sight she had been gifted with by Mythal was a curse. Especially when it foresaw such pain for her daughter and Flemeth was bound in a way that made her unable to help, to stop it, and she cursed.

For all her power, Flemeth still had to bow her head to Fate.

_**Oh Morrigan, my Morrigan. I told you love will only hurt you, but you have never listened when it came to Kiara, **_Flemeth thought and she wept for her daughter, her youngest and last daughter, who would feel a pain that Flemeth had experienced and hoped to spare her from.

It was horribly fitting that her most beloved daughter—who was so much life her—would also lose the one that she loved to death.

* * *

"You have been very quiet since they left," Lelianna commented as she came to rest beside where Vala was staring out at the Diamond Quarter from one of the windows of the palace.

"Twice I've been left behind," Vala mused. "At Redcliffe, it was easier as I was knocked out for most of it, but here? It's worse, especially when I look at Ellana and Malika."

"You are not the reason that they have stayed behind," Lelianna told her firmly and Vala smiled slightly as she played with the plain golden ring on the chain around her neck.

"Perhaps not the reason that Malika stayed," Vala allowed. "But Ella stayed to watch over me," she glanced at the bard, "it's hard for her being so far away from Elion and not knowing if he's alright. It's hard on us all, I know."

"We must trust in the Maker to keep them safe," Lelianna said softly and Vala looked away.

"It's hard to believe in Him when all this happens," she finally muttered and Lelianna just hummed for a little while.

"He is testing us," the bard stated and Vala scoffed.

"When will He be finished testing us?" she demanded, angry in a way that she hadn't been since her Wedding Day. "He has turned His back on us and yet He still tests us without offering any aid when we beg and plead for a shred of His kindness."

"It is not for us to question Him, but I can understand your thoughts and feelings," Lelianna glanced at the large stained-glass window. "I, too, have often though those things, but my faith remains strong. I have to believe that He'll turn back to us and help us, I have to."

Vala wondered what happened to Lelianna to make her cling to the Maker so much, her thoughts travelled to her cousin and she shuddered slightly, pushing the thought away.

She had meant to protect her, protect Shianni, and she failed her when her cousin needed her the most. Vala would never be able to forget that and just hoped that Shianni was now safe, or as safe as she could be in the Alienage.

"Are you alright?" Lelianna's hand was warm as it wrapped around her fists and she glanced up.

"I will be," Vala decided as she stared up at those kind blue eyes. "Thank you."

* * *

Dagna hitched up her pack higher as she followed eagerly after the Warden Elven mage and the Exiled Princess towards the Mage Tower, she had been bouncing with impatience for the last too long weeks as she awaited word from the Circle after Lendanis promised to send a letter to the First Enchanter and now she was finally going and completing her dream.

"Here," Lendanis waved her staff over her and Dagna realised just how cold she must have been as her skin warmed and pins and needles attacked her.

"Thank you," she said and looked up at her with wide eyes. "What spell did you use?"

"I didn't," Lendanis told her easily, matching the short strides of the dwarves she was traveling with. "I just directed my magic in a different way," green eyes glanced down at the eager dwarf and Lendanis smiled, "I learnt it from the Qunari Mage, Saya, that I have been traveling with."

"Where is she?" Dagna asked and it was Sereda who answered.

"In the Deep Roads, searching for the Paragon Branka with some of our Order and her Companions,"

Dagna bit her lip worriedly, "the Paragon is presumed dead by most."

"Prince Bhelen has evidences that makes him believe otherwise," Sereda responded shortly.

"I'm surprised you agreed to come with me," Lendanis spoke up after a while and glanced down at the blonde dwarf at her side. "I would have thought you would have stayed with your brother."

"I'm a Kinslayer exiled from the Stone," Sereda explained. "No matter how welcoming my brother is, I still should not be allowed to pass Orzammar's gates. The Assembly would have been in an up-roar if they thought I was allowed in and being treated as a Princess when that title and that right had been stripped from me if they weren't already fighting. It is only because I've become a Grey Warden that my presence hasn't harmed his campaign for the throne, me keeping away from him will be the best thing for him in the long run."

"And I thought Circle politics were complex," Lendanis mused idly, pulling her hood around her more closely as they marched across the snow—thankfully it wasn't deep so they weren't wading through it.

Sereda almost smiled.

* * *

_**First day, they come and catch everyone.**_

Elion frowned as the song echoed back to them and glanced at towards Kiara, whose face was set in stone where it was visible, and Saya, who was scowling deeply.

_**Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.**_

"Hespith!" Oghern roared in anger and only reverted to mutters when Faren put her hand on his shoulder. "Sod it all to hell, if it's not enough she's been fucking me wife, but now she's singing that blasted song."

"Considering she left you behind," Elion spoke up, quietly and with a hint of malice in his smile. "You should have had some idea that she had a lover on the side."

Oghern opened his mouth, outrage darkening his face to a deep red, and closed it when Kiara shot him a deadly look.

"I don't know why we are so surprised," Morrigan muttered. "I'm still shocked she married the oaf."

Elion wasn't even surprised that Oghern just grunted slightly and didn't even grumble at Morrigan—when tension had been running high, the Sten had snapped something about mages that had caused Kiara to set him on his ass and levelled the Qunari's sword against his throat. Since then the Sten had kept close to his 'Kadan' and away from the human rogue, Oghern had kept to himself and away from Morrigan and Saya since that little display.

_**Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.**_

"I must say that I dislike this song," Zevran decided. "I need to hear Lelianna's sweet voice singing a proper song."

The smooth carved walls and bold runes had given away to rough stone—dug out by clawed hands and picks—and the fleshy corrupted tendrils and veins began to thicken on the walls.

Elion long decided that breathing through his mouth was a lot better than his nose, only people like Kiara truly got used to the smell of rotting flesh to a degree that they don't even notice it.

He glanced at the bulging sacs that were starting to appear and almost stilled when he saw something moving inside it, sluggishly yet alive.

Kiara's longsword pierced one sac, the size of a small dog, and she twisted it brutally before ripping it out, dark fluid shone on the steel blade and Kiara's eyes were hard as they peered out from under her helmet and over her facemask.

"What….what is that?" Jowan asked, gripping his staff close to him.

"Where did you think Darkspawn come from?" Kiara questioned grimly in return. "They are born like everything else."

"You mean...these are _wombs_?" There was deep revulsion in Wynne's voice and Kiara nodded.

"Kill them," Alistair's voice was flat and he stabbed his sword into another sac.

_**Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.**_

"That's it," Elion's jaw clenched. "I'm shooting her in the eye."

"Shoot her in the mouth so she doesn't continue with that song in death," Zev suggested as he stabbed downwards with his short swords and killing forming genlock in it.

"If these are wombs," Faren began as Shale stomped on another sac. "Where is the….?"

Elion grimaced as Morrigan shuddered while both Saya and Kiara were brutal in making sure that none of this sacs—these wombs, and oh gods, they were wombs and that meant….—would birth the Darkspawn within.

_**Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.**_

Elion had never been so relieved that Ellana was still in Orzammar as that verse was sung and echoed.

"Be wary," Alistair called, his voice flat and his eyes hard as they moved forward. "There has to be a Broodmother near."

Broodmothers, Kiara had told them about them and yet Elion doubted they realised just how Broodmothers were created until Hespith began her haunting song.

She had been the second tainted dwarf they had come across and like Ruck before her, she would end up dead by one of their hands. There would be no gentleness for her though, Ruck despite his insanity had been a more sympathetic victim and it had been a mercy killing. Hespith, though, she would be killed without mercy if only because her chanting song.

_**Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.**_

Morrigan shuddered again and Elion almost joined her. This was the cause behind Kiara's fear, this was why she hadn't wanted to go but couldn't let Morrigan go alone.

Elion knew for however longed he lived, he would never want to enter the Deeproads again, and never would he dismiss Malika's fear. Because now he understand, now he wanted to be as far away from this Blight as she had since the beginning.

But like Malika, like Kiara, it was because of their promise and stubbornness that they would stay and fight these monsters.

* * *

_**Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.**_

Kiara should have killed Hespith as soon as she saw her, but had let both Oghern and Alistair lead the questioning. If she had just killed the dwarf then they wouldn't have to listen to her.

It was bad enough that they were about to meet and fight a Broodmother without her telling them just how it was made. Because it had become an it, Kiara couldn't, wouldn't, refer the creature as a she.

_**Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.**_

Kiara was thankful that Vala wouldn't hear this chant, that Vala hadn't tried to come with them and had done as Kiara ordered. Kiara didn't order her Companions much, but she wasn't going to let Malika, Ellana and Vala be here, hell she didn't even want Elion and Saya here but she was also horribly grateful that they were here.

The sacs were becoming bigger and the corrupted flesh was spreading across the walls and the floor so they were now stepping in it.

* * *

_**Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.**_

Oghern held his hammer tightly, this had been his House, his family, and Branka had let this happen? His wife had let this happen to their family? Sod it all, she had to have gone mad to let this happen.

_**Now she does feast as she's become the beast.**_

If Hespith wasn't hiding then Oghern wouldn't hesitate to shut her up with his hammer to her face. It had nothing to do with the fact that she had been sleeping with his wife, and everything to do with the fact that she was mad and just wouldn't shut up!

She hid from his stone-sense, but he knew Hespith. She would be watching them, waiting for another time to unleash a new horror on them, and Oghern knew she would be killed for it—perhaps she even welcomed the thought of her coming death. Perhaps she was keeping up that chant in that toneless and flat voice so they would kill her quickly.

He had never imagined Hespith being a coward, but he hadn't imagined that she had been fucking his wife.

There was a blind corner coming up and Oghern didn't have to be a Grey Warden to know what was behind it.

_**Broodmother…..**_

"By the Paragon," he breathed as he stared. "Laryn."

If Hespith hadn't named her as Laryn, he would never have recognised her.

She filled the carven almost, grey, corrupted, and bugling. Her pretty features were gone, deformed into the nose-less monster. There was nothing in the beast that reminded him of Laryn, her brown hair was gone, wasted away until she had only a bald grey head. This couldn't be Laryn and yet he knew deep within that it was.

* * *

Morrigan almost gagged as she took in this Broodmother that took up the rear third of this carven. Grey flesh stretched over bugling fat, it had rows of heavy breasts more suited for a beast then any humanoid thing, its' arms were short, too short to feed itself so others were feeding it, and the veins and tendrils came from it—they were thick, corrupted appendages that actually moved as well as birthed Darkspawn.

"Kill it, we have to kill it," there was something frantic in the voice that spoke and Morrigan realised with a start that it was her, she had spoken with such fear and she felt no shame for that.

Only a fool would stare at that and not feel fear, and Morrigan had never been a fool. She was her mother's daughter despite everything.

Saya's staff was the first to slam into the floor and ice spread quickly, greedily, freezing the flesh and making the monster scream a loud and echoing scream.

"Andraste's mercy," Wynne seemed to plead as she threw out her own staff and added her power to Saya's ice, Jowan and Morrigan joining them.

Morrigan's heart leapt in her throat as she watched Kiara dart forward, her swords flaming and trailing flames, and she wanted to shout out, to tell her to stop, but she couldn't, she had to kill it, kill it now!

* * *

**AN: I hope you like this chapter, slightly longer than normal and damn hard to write. Please review and let me know what you think.**

**The votes for Game of Thrones fic.**

**Stark: 2**

**Targaryen: 1**

**Lannister: 0**


	37. Chapter 37

It should have been easy, ten against one fat thing that couldn't move? Simple.

But when had things ever been simple since she stepped out of the Wilds?

The thing—she couldn't, couldn't, think of it as a woman—called out and its children answered, swarming the carven and raising their crude weapons in defence of their mother.

It was war, it was chaos, and Morrigan fought with all she had.

She flung around spells and pure magic faster than she ever had to before because they wouldn't stop swarming them, they kept coming and Morrigan wouldn't let them make her into one of those! She refused!

She was Morrigan, daughter of Flemeth and lover of Kiara. She had plans and they had nothing to do with becoming a filthy corrupted Broodmother, popping out Darkspawn faster than should be possible.

The only child she planned in having would have a soul of an Archdemon, and unfortunately, would be Alistair's by seed only—it would Kiara's in blood as well, and theirs in all the ways that mattered, she had decided.

That wouldn't happen if she let them touch her, let them take her, and let them touch her in a way that only Kiara could.

She grabbed one of the reaching Darkspawn and pressed her hand firmly against its rotting hand, her magic surging, before she pushed it away into its brethren—it only got ten feet before it exploded and took out five of its fellows.

* * *

Branka's death was written in Kiara's eyes as she held Morrigan, she didn't even blink when Hespith fell with an arrow piercing her throat.

Her elf that did it just stared at Hespith's body with hard gold eyes as the other elf placed a hand on his shoulder, muttering to him softly in his strange accent.

Perhaps Oghern should have been thinking of a way to save his wife, perhaps in another life he would have. But this Oghern? Here and now? Sober in a way that he hadn't been for two long years? He couldn't deluded himself into believing that he could bring Branka back and they could continue their marriage like nothing happened. This had happened, she had left him and taken everyone with her, and for what? This? To turn their women into Broodmothers and their men into food?

All over some anvil that was known to be lost and considered by some to be a myth? Sod that, sod the bleeding anvil, sod his bleeding stupid wife.

He would not warn her, like she had not warn him of her plans, and he would watch as the woman he once loved died.

Some may call him heartless, but Oghern didn't care. He loved Laryn too, she had been family, and Branka had let this happen to her—that was something that he couldn't forgive, couldn't fool himself into forgiving.

Laryn had been kind and sweet, Laryn should have never stepped into the Deeproads as she was too gentle for this horror. But Laryn was also loyal, she wouldn't have thought of disobeying Branka and that loyalty had brought her this.

Oghern was thankful that they had killed her, had stopped her torture, and he felt sick at the thought that the other women was somewhere down here, tortured and changed like Laryn had been.

No, Oghern couldn't save Branka, he couldn't save his wife, because she wasn't his wife anymore, she was just a monster that had doomed their family. All for a sodding anvil.

A hand resting on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts and he looked up to see the other elf, Zevran, standing just behind them.

"I think," Zevran began lightly, "my dwarven friend, we should look into getting you another wife—perhaps one without the fondness of other women and obsession over an anvil, yes?"

Oghern actually laughed because if he didn't laugh than he would most likely sob or shout in anger. This wasn't what he thought would happen, but when had things ever gone the way he thought?

* * *

Have you ever hated someone so much that you know you'll kill them when you see them without even meeting them? Just her then? Fair enough.

She had never liked Branka, had never sided with her in all her playthroughs and didn't understand why people would actually chose to help her. She hadn't just abandoned her husband, she had brought her family to ruin.

She had mercilessly sacrificed her House, the people that looked up at her and called her family, and for what? An anvil that forcefully bound souls to golem bodies? It was disgusting and Kiara knew she would kill her long before this moment.

It was the horror that was the Broodmother that showed her that she couldn't let and wouldn't let Branka even speak because if Branka began to sprouting her nonsense than Kiara wouldn't be kind, couldn't be kind.

Not when Morrigan shuddered away from the bodies of the Darkspawn, not when there was a new shadow in those gold eyes that she loved, not when Elion's jaw was almost clenched tight enough to break, not when Elion had something else to fear that will befall onto his sister, not when Saya had something new to have nightmares about.

No, Branka would die by her hand without a chance to stop her. Kiara had been called Reaper once for a good reason, it may have been in another world when she went by another name, but it was still true. She was the Bringer of Death, it had been a duty and calling that she had long ago stopped cringing away from and now embraced it.

* * *

The Sten thought it was very telling that when the thin blade buried itself into the dwarf woman's neck, making her choke and spill blood down her well-cared for armour, that Alistair only sighed as he looked at Kiara.

"You do remember her that we needed her, right?" Alistair asked which just made Kiara shrug uncaringly, her dark gaze watching as the dwarf choked and coughed on blood.

"We could just lie," Zevran suggested but Faren shook his head shortly.

"The Nobles would know, don't bloody know how but they would," his Kadan explained with a sour turn to his mouth.

"Then let's hope that the bitch was onto something," Kiara spoke up shortly and began to head the way that the dwarven woman had been so intent of them going. "Elion, remind me to never go near dwarven politics and the Deeproads again."

"I'll cheerfully punch you if it seems you are considering it," Elion replied as he followed his own Kadan.

Sten glanced down at his Kadan and wasn't surprised that he was already moving to follow the human woman and just fell in step behind him.

Oghern paused before he followed the others and gave one last sad look at his wife before hurrying after the others. He had loved her once, but the woman he loved had been dead long before Kiara's blade pierced her throat.

* * *

_We all know what happens next. We had to deal with a small army of Darkspawn, go through Age old traps and end up standing in front of Golems that made Shale look petite. In the end we got a crown, two Paragons were dead, an anvil was broken and had a rubbing of names that had given up everything to be a golem and protect their kingdom._

* * *

Shale didn't know what to think as the name Shayle Cadash echoed through her mind. That name was hers and she hadn't known it, hadn't known she had once been flesh and bone like those she now travelled with. She had been mortal, needing rest and nourishment to function, so breakable and easily killed.

"Fearsome human," Shale called out and the woman, Kiara, turned to look at her, one of her arms wrapped snugly around the Swamp Witch. "Your loud friend, she is a Cadash?"

"Yes," she agreed with little interest and mildly—there was a reason that Shale preferred this human over the rest, she wasn't nosy and was as wholly destructive as Shale herself when it came to certain things.

The memory of the whirlwind she had become, furious and deathly afraid, when they had run-ins with giant spiders showed that wonderfully. She also had the ability to scare others just by smiling which was impressive, she had also just accepted Shale in a way that the others didn't—it didn't mean that she trusted Shale, just that she accepted her as a person which was surprisingly important to Shale. Even more important now that she had discovered she had once been a fleshy thing.

"Why was they exiled?" Shale asked after a long moment of silence, something she had been musing on since they had stopped briefly in Cadash Thaig and the Fearsome human remarked that the loud one would enjoy seeing where her family came from.

"They were highly interested into the fate of a certain golem," the human gave her a knowing look. "In the time of her grandfather's childhood, some had gotten fed up with the Shaperate stalling and decided to try and steal the knowledge."

Shale felt something she had never felt before, she felt warm and touched that her descents, her family, still wanted to know what had happened to her. Perhaps she should think about meeting them?

"I don't think they remember just what was so special about this golem, about you," the human continued to explain. "Or they would have stopped at nothing to find you. The House Cadash is big on family loyalty, they would have ripped Thedas apart to find you."

Shale wanted to smile in a way that she was uncertain her stone face would allow for some odd reason.

* * *

Sereda watched as the golden crown—forged by the legendary Paragon Caridin—was placed on her brother's pale golden hair and saw the deep pride and victory in his blue eyes—her eyes, their mother's eyes—and found the sight bittersweet.

She had never doubted Harrowmount's word that her father did not wish Bhelen on the throne, but she would always chose her brother over Harrowmount if only to keep the House of Aeducan on the throne.

Bhelen had shown he had the ruthless cunning that was needed to deal and win the game of politics and he had always been ambitious—Trian had been the most revered soldier, Sereda had been the most beloved and Bhelen had been the most ambitious—and had always been different.

He would lead Orzammar into a different future, a better future than Trian would have led them into and perhaps even herself. She had never cared for the Casteless, but here was Bhelen going to make on his Queen, he was going to change things for the better for them. Though she didn't truly understand why that was so important to him—perhaps only because of his Casteless Queen?—she could admire his work.

Harrowmount made it seem like Father hadn't approved of the way that Bhelen had gotten rid of both Trian and herself in one clever plot which Sereda found hypocritical as their Father had arranged the death of his own older brother to gain the throne in the first place.

Sereda wasn't sure if she had ever really wanted the throne, Trian wanted it because he believed it was his right but they had all known he wouldn't have been a good king as he only did two things with single-minded focus; fuck women and fight.

And it was perhaps why she believed she would have the throne and that they would chose her over her brute of a brother, and she almost wanted to laugh at herself as she completely forgot her other brother. Bhelen who had never been content to be lookover, who had always burned with ambition, who had listened and learnt and read more than either Trian or Sereda put together—they had always been more focused on the study of the blade, and Sereda to courting people to herself.

It was probably best that Bhelen was king as a king needed to be more than a simple soldier and courtier.

"Long live King Bhelen," she called out and smiled at the affection that was clear in his eyes when he looked at her.

She may not have a name anymore, she may not be a Princess, she may not have Gorim, but somehow she still had her little brother that caused all of this.

She almost laughed because it sounded like the worst joke in history, but it was true and Sereda was alright with that.

* * *

**AN: Short I know, but you can probably tell I struggled with this chapter—hopefully Soldier's Peak will be easier to write. For those that don't know, I've moved onto the Harry Potter verse in my story A Magical Life, so please go and check it out and tell me what you think.**

**House Targaryen has won the vote and I'd be interested in who'd you like our favourite rouge—going to be called Sheana in that verse—to be paired with in that verse.**

**Mass Effect has also be decided to be one of the next verses I tackle with Urdnot Wrex being the father to our girl—who will be known as Urdnot Cora—and it seems she'll be ending up with Shepard—there is a poll on my profile where you can vote for male or female Shepard or Joker because Joker needs love that isn't a robot. **


	38. Chapter 38

Bhelen hesitated in the grand doorway into Orzammar—his kingdom, he thought to himself with just a hint of disbelief—and simply stared at his sister for a long moment.

For the first time since he had seen her again, he truly looked at his sister and took in all what had changed in some months.

Her blue eyes—his blue eyes, their mother's blue eyes—had a new hardness to them—he knew he was part of the reason it was there—and a shadow of horrors that Bhelen would never understand as he was not, and would not be, a Warden.

Her golden hair which she had always carefully braided and pinned back before she delved into her training and been cut roughly and was now growing out unevenly—it took all that was in him not to make her get it fixed, he had always loved her hair and remembered fondly when he would braid her hair though Trian had mocked him for it.

Tough leather was under shiny new dwarven iron and steel—something that he had gifted all the Wardens—there was a sword—blacken by Darkspawn blood—sheathed against her left side, another sword on her right, a war-axe and a shield now rested on her back—another gift from him, but just this time from a brother to his sister.

Her once open and gentle face was more closed off and hard, and he could no longer read her as he once done. He was too blame he knew, his betrayal, and yet there relationship hadn't suffered much.

There was a distance between them, a wariness that hadn't been there before, but they still held love for each other and still called the other their sibling.

Bhelen thought it was a telling thing that neither of them seemed to mourn the loss of Trian.

"Sereda," he called, still safely in his kingdom with his loyal guard at his back while Rica ignored everything to throw her arms around her brother, and his sister looked at him. "Don't die."

"I wouldn't give them the satisfaction," she jested back and then they stared at each other for a moment.

Bhelen wouldn't, couldn't, apologise for what he had done to her, what he tricked her into doing for him. Sereda knew that and accepted that, knowing she would be the same in his place, but they both knew it was appreciated that Bhelen had told her that he had never meant for her to die or worse.

She gave a nod of farewell and turned her back on Orzammar—on him—and walked down to where the Companions, her other travelling companions and the other non-dwarven Wardens waited for them.

* * *

Rica laid her forehead against his like she used to when they were curled up in bed.

"Be careful," she whispered to him, softly pleading.

"I will," he vowed, he promised, and he would be as careful as a Warden could be during the Blight.

"Don't forget to write," she told him as she pulled back and brushed off non-existence dirt off his new thin dwarven armour—good for protection without being a hinder to his fighting-style. "Take care of Malika."

Faren still wasn't sure how to feel about the friendship that his woman and his sister had struck up. Part of him was glad they got on, that Rica approved of Malika and Malika liked Rica, but another part was wary as it was never a good thing when women got together and talked.

"I will," he promised once again. "Take care of yourself and your baby."

She smiled, a joyful smile that he wanted her to always wear, and place a protective and loving hand on her rounding stomach.

"I will," she told him and then she laughed lightly. "But I know Bhelen will take care of us both better."

Grudgingly, Faren nodded—he was also unsure what he felt about the fact that his sister was pregnant, that she was going to marry the king of Orzammar and all that, but he knew it would keep her safe and Bhelen seemed to love her.

King or not, Faren would kill him if he ever heard of Bhelen mistreating his beloved sister.

"Bye,"

Rica retreated back to the protective side of Bhelen and Faren waved before he headed down to his fellow Wardens, the Companions and the other companions—they needed a better name for that group, he realised. Sten fell into step just behind him and Faren was still getting used to the whole Kadan thing—he was still somewhat convinced that it meant that Sten was kind of in love with him though Saya had laughed and called him an idiot when he confined in her before she told him that she considered Kiara her Kadan and only loved her like a sister. Faren still wasn't completely convinced.

He smiled when he saw Malika chatting at Shale because Malika wasn't chatting with Shale though golem didn't seem to mind.

"Granddad is going piss himself when he meets you!" Malika said animatedly, her hands gesturing wildly with emotion. "He also be pissed off that you were forgotten about—sorry about that, but hey, we still looked—and who would have thought that the golem we made so much pissing fuss about was a member of the family? Makes senses though when you think about it, because why would we still be up in arms about it bloody Ages later? I always wondered what was so pissin' important about that one golem and now I know!"

There was a new fondness to Shale's stone face as she listened to Malika chatter on, something he hadn't been expecting to see and was still bloody odd to witness at times.

"We are never—and I repeat never—going back into a dwarven kingdom," he heard Morrigan declare and he turned to see Kiara standing with her arm wrapped around Morrigan—something she had gotten used to doing in the Deeproads.

"Of course," Kiara agreed easily. "And we will never go back into the Deeproads."

Morrigan shuddered slightly and Kiara's grip tightened just a bit.

"Good, we are in agreement," Morrigan nodded and Kiara smiled slightly.

* * *

"Remind me again why we are heading towards the man that wants to kill us?" Malika yelled out towards where Andra and Alistair was leading them.

"We've told you," Alistair called back, just slightly annoyed with Malika. "We're going to Soldier's Peak."

"Oh yeah, because going to a place where the Wardens were banished from Ages ago makes so much sense in our current fight against the Blight," Malika replied and Faren fought a snigger as she had a point.

"Mal," Kiara sighed as she heaved Jowan back to his feet—he still wasn't used to travelling like they did—under the sneer and piercing gaze of Morrigan. "I love you dearly, sister, but if you do not shut up, I will be forced to make you."

Surprisingly Malika didn't shoot back a retort and just eyed Kiara with a bit of concern.

"Are you alright?" Ellana asked, resting her hand on Kiara's shoulder and being able to feel the tension for the leather and mixed metal.

"I don't like this," Kiara admitted as the rest of the Wardens, future Wardens and such shuffled passed leaving on her Companions—which now included Shale as well as Faren, Zevran and sometimes Sten. "We are only going there because Duncan promised Levi Dryden and have no idea what we'll find there. Somewhere with that much death?" she grimaced as she gazed towards the cloaked backs of the Wardens. "The Veil will be thin and I doubted anyone truly bothered cleaning up the bodies as the Wardens were considered traitors."

Echoing grimaces crossed the faces of Ellana, Elion, Saya and Malika—the only Companions that had the pleasure of dealing with the undead in places the Veil was thin and people didn't bother getting rid of the bodies—the Free Marches were such a joy.

"Great," Elion began, "another night of living dead in our future, huh?"

Kiara nodded grimly and Malika groaned.

"That's it!" she exclaimed. "After this, we are going back to Kirkwall—nothing happens in Kirkwall!"

Only Morrigan caught the slight tension that creased Kiara's eyes briefly at Malika's declaration and knew she should prepare herself for whatever they would face in Kirkwall—especially considering she'd most likely be heavy with child then.

* * *

Varric felt his eyebrow raise as he read the report from one of his sources in the Merchant Guild that let him know of the goings on in Orzammar.

"You've certainly been busy, Kiara," Varric muttered and grimaced when he realised that Kiara had been part of the group that had headed into the Deeproads and bought back a crown—not just any crown, by Andraste's tits, no because that wouldn't do for Kiara and her new Wardens friends, no she had brought back a crown forged by the legendary and revered Paragon Caridin.

The Deeproads was somewhere that Varric would never picture Kiara going, too filled with giant spiders and the marching armies of Darkspawn for her liking. Andraste's arse, Varric didn't even want to venture in there but had resigned himself to going down there with his brother after this accursed Blight was over.

Bartrand had already began planning an expedition into the Deeproads to find treasure and all that rot—Varric liked treasure as much as any other guy, he just didn't like the thought of being in the Deeproads.

Varric tapped his finger on his table and wondered what Kiara had in mind when it came to Loghain Mic Tir because a man like Mic Tir? Kiara wouldn't let such a man hold the throne of her mother country.

But who would she put on the throne in his place? That's what Varric was most curious about though he knew he wasn't the only one.

The whole of Southern Thedas was watching Fereldan as it teared itself apart and a small group of Wardens, and what army they were slowly gathering, fight against the Blight—it seemed only Loghain Mic Tir and his supporters actually believed it wasn't a Blight which just convinced Varric that Loghain Mic Tir had gone senile or blind or even mad.

Southern Thedas held its breath as they knew what was happening in Fereldan would decide the course of this Blight; would these Wardens end the Blight? Or would it rage across the lands like the Blights of old?

Varric had no doubt in his mind that the Blight would end in Fereldan.

The reason for his certainty? Kiara had joined forces with the Wardens and she wouldn't let anyone stop her from ending the Blight.

Dispose a revered Hero who proclaimed himself king? No problem. Put someone on the throne to bring Fereldan into order? Just call her King-maker. Need an army? Hold on as she raised the word amongst the Companions and their contacts, but you can just go on and find some of your own allies while she did that.

Because that was Kiara and _that_ was one of the many reasons why she scared the shit out of him.

Varric was of the opinion that it was a very good thing that Kiara was never going to be made Queen of anything—apart from being the Queen of Blades. She had the ruthlessness and drive to turn a kingdom into an empire if only because someone would tell her she couldn't.

One thing you learn quick when it comes with Kiara, you don't tell her she can't do things because she would bloody do just to spite you—one of the reasons that she and Elion got on so well.

* * *

"I hate when you are right," Morrigan told her lover as she blasted another walking dead—as if they didn't have enough of them when they were in Redcliffe, now they had to deal with more?

Kiara just laughed as she near-danced between strikes and beheaded their undead enemies with one strong strike of her long sword while her short sword pierced another's chest.

"These enemies suit me fine," Malika called out as her axes cut and hacked at the undead. "No pissing taint in sight!"

A undead body exploded into raging flames after being shot by one of Elion's arrows—she didn't know what he did to make his arrows do that but Morrigan could admire such workmanship.

Vala was showing that Kiara hadn't made a mistake when she chose her to become a member of the Companions—and not just a Companions, but one of the core members—as she moved with surprisingly fluidly wielding that stolen sword of hers and the other that had been gifted to her.

Still not as skilled as the others, Morrigan couldn't help but notice. Vala was still skilled in her own way, given time and Kiara's 'tender' training and Vala would be a force to be reckoned with much like the others.

* * *

"Grandmother….?" Levi Dryden asked in growing shock and horror as he stared at the corpse that talked to them and claimed to be his grandmother.

"This is creepy," Ellana actually declared from behind the distraught human. "Even for us."

Malika couldn't argue with that, they had seen some weird and creepy shit together but a talking undead Warden? Yeah, didn't get worse than that in Malika's humble opinion.

"We're going to kill it, right?" Vala asked as she rocked back on her heels and stared at the undead attempt to convince them to join her in growing disgust—could it still be called a her? Was it an it now? Did it really matter? She was really starting to hate the whole dead rising thing. "Because killing it seems like a really good idea."

Elion just shifted and leaned against Zevran.

"She's basically already dead now," Elion said which just made people snort. "I don't mean her undead state."

Before anyone could ask what he meant, a sword was sticking out of the Undead Warden's chest and another blade swiped across its neck with even strength to almost behead it.

Kiara kicked the body of her sword and then looked up to see people staring at her in slight shock—or horror in the case of Levi Dryden.

"What?" she asked in what could be called innocent confusion on anyone else which caused Zevran, Elion, Faren and Malika laughed at her expression.

Andra only sighed as she shook her head while Alistair didn't know if he should laugh or not at her expression. He was obviously spending too much time with her if he was getting fondly amused by her actions, he decided firmly.

* * *

Saya felt her lips curl back as she read over Ellana's shoulder as the elf read the notes on the Warden's blood-mage. It didn't matter he was most likely dead now, it was experiments like this that made people fear and hate mages.

She glanced up when she felt more than saw Kiara hesitate before the door to the rest of the tower and met Kiara's dark gaze—it was serious and heavy and filled with warning which made her jaw clench as she realised that worse had yet to become—and Kiara opened the door.

"The fuck you still doing alive?" Malika blurted out as she peered around Kiara and Saya stiffened—the Blood-mage was still alive? Impossible!

* * *

**AN: short chapter, I know, but thought I'd update and all. Information on most polls are on A Magical Life fic, but would like to know if anyone has any idea who in Game of Thrones should end up with Sheana Targaryen.**

**Two have already requested Sheana to be paired with Rhaegar, one for general femslash and one for Sheana and Lyanna.**


	39. Chapter 39

Saya almost let out a growl when she entered the room and made sure she was looming behind Kiara and Malika—knowing them, one of them would say something that set off the unstable ancient blood-mage—and heard Ellana let out a hissed breath between her teeth before her hands clamped down on her twin—Elion automatically grabbing for Zevran in a very telling move which meant that the ex-Crow was going to be around for some time—and Vala, dragging them back and away from the threat.

Because he was a threat, it didn't matter that he shouldn't be alive and looked almost half-dead. Leathery skin pulling tight against bone, hair gone and not even a hint of it left. Eyes colourless and empty.

"What have you done?" Wynne's voice was appalled and shook as the elder mage stared at the man, hands gripping her staff to her.

The others—the non-mages—were confused and didn't know what they could feel. Blood-magic could be suspected and felt when active, but Saya had never come across a mage that reeked so much of blood.

Jowan was staring and Dani was pressed against his side, her lips thinned and pursed while Leona looked like she was going to be sick as she skirted the back of the group, wide dark blue eyes horrified and staring at the man.

Morrigan was almost leaning forward in interest, a hint of distaste marring her features, and was only held back from her questions and such by Kiara's grip around her waist as Kiara almost hauled her back—reacting to the actions of everybody else as always—and there was a hint of scowl creasing her face as she glanced around her and took in the tense expressions on the faces of the mages.

"You're the Grey Warden that summoned the demons?" Andra asked, stepping forward with Alistair bristling and a protective burr on her side—his Templar instincts flaring to life at such proximity to such a blood-mage—and Melima with her bow ready and arrow notched to unleash beside her. "How have you survived?"

"Blood-magic," Dani almost snarled, green eyes almost glowing with magic and Saya could almost feel the tightly leashed destruction that Dani was barely holding back, ready to unleash if the mage made on false move—there was a reason why Kiara classed that Warden a battle-mage and why neither Saya nor Ellana disagreed with her.

The mage, Avernus, turned round and stared at them for a moment.

"I was wondering when you'd finally work up the courage to enter," Avernus remarked drily, glancing at the grieving and horrified form of Levi Dryden. "I assume that you've had the pleasure of meeting what remains of Sophia Dryden? Let me guess, she asked you to help kill me?"

"She's dead," Kiara pipped up bluntly, not flinching away from Avernus' colourless gaze—only giant spiders had ever made her flinch which made Ellana want to shake her, to scream at her, because she should flinch away from some of the things they had fought and would fought, she should run away but Kiara didn't, wouldn't, and Ellana knew with a fearful certainty that it will lead to Kiara's death. "I'm not sure what she was talking about when I killed her. I tend to turn out crazy."

For a moment Avernus just stared at Kiara before his lips tilted up into a humourless smile which just stretched his skin across his skull tighter.

* * *

Alistair could almost feel the power of a smite building in him as he stared at this mage—he was a Warden and he unleashed demons that were still hanging around—and wished they didn't need him now, that they could deal with his mess without him.

But that would have been too easy, far too easy, and when had anything been easy since Ostagar became a massacre, the Wardens slaughtered and Duncan and Cailan died? Nothing, nothing had been simple and easy, and Alistair almost wished for the peace and quiet he had so hated when he was still training to be a Templar.

But they needed him and so Alistair forced down the power of a Templar and fought against demons and shades and all sorts.

When it's over and he turns to deal with Avernus and instead saw Kiara holding on to the mage's arm—ignoring the looks of her Companions and Morrigan—and was staring at him.

"He has to tell you something before he submits himself to Grey Warden justice," Kiara's voice echoed in the sudden silence and she waited for them to stop, to loosen their hold on their weapons and for both Andra and Alistair to nod before she turned back to Avernus. "Tell them, tell them what happens to the Grey Warden that kills the Archdemon. Tell them what they have to sacrifice to end this Blight."

A look of utter confusion appeared on Avernus' face until he looked at them and realised that they didn't know what Kiara was asking and he actually looked a bit horrified.

"They don't know….." he barely breathes the words and yet they seem so loud.

"No," Kiara confirmed, fierce and stern and sad. "Tell them, tell them the truth they should have known from the beginning. You are a Grey Warden and it is your duty to your brothers and sisters, tell them."

Avernus stared around at them, watching as the dwarven male Warden accepted the hug from the brown haired dwarven woman, the two human warrior Wardens linking their hands as the Dalish drifted closer. No one had told them, no one had warned them.

"The soul of the Archdemon is drawn to the Taint," he began, his lips almost numb, "and if anyone other than a Warden strikes a killing blow, the soul will just transfer itself to another Darkspawn. If a Warden strikes the killing blow than the soul in drawn to the taint in the Warden's blood."

He pauses as understanding began to dawn on the mages.

"The two souls will fight and destroy each other," he explained in simple terms that didn't do justice to the destruction that those two souls would wreak in the body of the Warden. "And finally, the Warden dies, ending the Blight."

Andra gasped like she had been belted in the chest and her hand gripped Alistair's.

The Warden who killed the Archdemon, who ended the Blight, would die? Why hadn't Duncan told them? Why had they not been told by anyone? Had Duncan thought he had time to tell them? Had he thought it would be his duty?

"Oh Maker," Alistair said and Andra wanted to scream, to shout, because this wasn't fair!

Hadn't they given enough? Hadn't they been doing enough? Now one of them had to die?

"What?" Faren's voice was flat. "Are you fucking kidding me? One of us is going to die no matter what?! Fuck that!"

He was clutching Malika tight and was glaring at Avernus and Kiara.

"None of you are dying," Kiara promised, sternly, sharply before pushing Avernus against the wall and putting a blade to his neck. "You have a choice, you can either die or you can comply with my demands and live just a tiny bit longer. What is your choice?"

"What is your demands?" Avernus gasped.

"No more experiments on people, moral experiments and I expect you to find a way to beat the Calling," her voice was sharp and broke no argument from anyone. "Can you accept that?"

"Yes," Avernus nodded and Kiara hesitated for a moment.

"Betray us and I'll kill you in a way that'll make you believe I was one of your demons," she warned him before releasing him and pushing him towards the door leading to his lab. "You can start now."

"Kiara?" Malika asked after a moment.

"We have a plan," Kiara told them, reaching out for Morrigan's hand. "Morrigan can do a ritual that will make sure that the Warden that kills the Archdemon will not die."

"What ritual?" Dani stepped forward.

"A ritual preformed on the eve of battle," Morrigan began to explain after giving Kiara a look. "An ancient ritual, I will need to preform it with Alistair. The result will be a child, a child of the taint and undeveloped enough that it'll be able to house the Old Soul without killing it."

"What will happen to the child?" Andra fired out, hand tight around Alistair's hand.

"We will take it and raise it as our own," Morrigan declared as she grabbed Kiara's hand tightly. "I will not bring it out to claim your throne if you are worried about that. They'll be raised away from Ferelden, in safety."

Morrigan didn't tell that that she was going to be adding Kiara's blood to the child after the battle in another ritual which would make Kiara a third parent. She was already vexed that Kiara had known and decided to share it now.

Andra nodded, her expression hard. She didn't like the thought of Morrigan and Alistair performing the ritual, but it was the only way that will ensure that they all lived through killing the Archdemon.

She felt better that Kiara was going to part of this child's upbringing, she felt better that Kiara knew of this and vaguely approved.

"Okay," Andra breathed out sharply. "We'll do that."

Sereda nodded grimly, approvingly, and Alistair tensed before relaxing into a slump.

"Maker, I have to sleep with her?" Alistair finally said in horror.

"Trust me," Morrigan sniffed. "I find the idea repelled myself, but it's the only way to save your ungrateful arses."

There was an amusement smile curling at Kiara's lips at Morrigan's rather crude words—at least for the Wilds' Mage.

"And we are supposed to just trust her?" Wynne spoke up, a hard scowl on her face and Kiara glared at her.

"I don't expect you to trust her. We all know what your obvious opinion is," Kiara spoke sharply. "But as you are not a Warden, it's not up to you, is it? As Alistair is the one that will have to go through the ritual, the only opinions that matter are Andra's and Alistair's.

This plan will give them a chance to surviving this mess, but if you have a problem with that then by all means, tell them. Tell them you rather one of the die than take part in a ritual you don't approve of."

Wynne looked around at the faces, the faces of her traveling companions and friends, and stepped back with a sigh. She couldn't say that, couldn't damn them to death, and though she didn't trust Morrigan per say, she knew enough of Kiara's character to know that Kiara wouldn't support a plan that would harm the Wardens—not after all that Kiara had done, not after all she was going to, and Wynne knew that.

So she would keep her silence, her disapproval, because it meant nothing as long as they lived through this.

* * *

"Why did you tell them?" Morrigan didn't look up from where she was washing in the warm underground spring that the Wardens had once made into their baths and used to heat their fortress.

She knew Kiara was there, she could always tell though Kiara still had the unnerving ability to walk without sound.

"They had a right to know their fate," Kiara answered quietly, her presence a reassuring weight against her back.

Even without touching her, Kiara reassured her in a way that Morrigan would have once found distasteful and would still if it had been anyone else.

Morrigan just hummed slightly, rubbing the cloth across her body for a moment.

"Did Flemeth tell you?" Morrigan asked because she had yet to mention her plan to Kiara so the only way that Kiara could know so much was if Flemeth had told her.

But what would Mother gain by telling Kiara? Nothing from what Morrigan could see.

"No," Kiara replied easily, a sigh and Morrigan stilled when warm dry fingers touched her shoulder and trailed up to her neck. "I'm sorry that I blind sighted you, but it is better for them to know now than think you kept it and was tricking them to get the Old God's soul."

"And who says I'm not?" Morrigan asked her lover and Kiara let out an amused scoff.

"That may have been what Flemeth wanted, what you think you want, but I know you Morrigan," lips brushed and lingered on the top of her head. "The moment the baby is placed in your arms, you'll fall in love in a way that only a mother can."

"I hope they end up with your eyes," Morrigan found herself musing out-loud and felt Kiara still behind her.

"What?" Kiara's voice was almost rough in emotion and Morrigan twisted to see her lover, raising one slim brow.

"You really think I haven't thought of a way to make it as much your child as mine?" Morrigan said in that haughty tone that only Morrigan could pull off. "I will not have the burden of raising it by myself. Tis only right that their other mother is also connected by blood."

For a moment Kiara just stared at her before dragging her up in a long kiss.

"Just when I think I have you all figured out," Kiara muttered fondly, hands cradling Morrigan's cheeks. "I love you."

It was the first time those words were expressed in such a matter of fact way that Morrigan couldn't help the smile curling her lips in answer.

"And I love you," Morrigan declared, watching the joy that lit Kiara's dark eyes before kissing her in a way that was almost too sweet for her before she dragged Kiara into the warm water with her.

"You evil witch," Kiara spluttered, still too delighted to be angry or fearful of having pulled into the water suddenly and splashed at Morrigan in an almost childish manner.

Morrigan shrieked and pushed with her magic to dump more water on Kiara which only made the other woman laugh.

* * *

_I had never been a mother before. I had been a teacher, a mentor, a sister and even an aunt in a way, but never a mother. Would I be a good mother? Would I corrupt the baby like I had everyone else?_

_It had taken a lifetime for me to grow fond of children, to like them and get on with them after all._

_Fuck, who'd knew that my relationship with a woman would end up with me having a baby when neither Logan nor Bucky had given me a child._

_There was some kind of sod's law in place, I think._

* * *

Alistair listened as the two women fell into what could only be called a water-fight and felt more secure with his agreement and decision to go ahead with Morrigan's plan as he leaned against the wall beside the door that led to the baths.

While he may never fully trust Morrigan—his Templar training was too strong, he supposed wryly—and still didn't fully like Kiara, he would trust them with the child.

He had never wanted to sire a bastard, to be responsible for bringing another child in the uncaring world that bastards lived in. But this child, this future child that would save Andra, would save their friends, wouldn't really be a bastard.

They'd have two parents that would love them very much, two frightening parents yes, but Alistair didn't doubt the child would be happy. Because if they loved the child half as much as they so obviously loved each other than the child would be loved so very much in a way that Alistair had always wished he was.

The more he thought about it, the better he felt.

The Companions would never leave Kiara so the child would grow up with aunts and uncles. Ellana would sooth any hurts, Malika would make their childhood full of laughter, Elion would teach them to be a vengeful bastard, Saya would protect them as fiercely as she protected the rest of them, and Zevran would probably attempt to corrupt the child with his so-called charm.

They'd grow up with Logan bounding about, a dog of their very own basically. Faren would be there—nothing would keep Faren from following Malika, Alistair already knew—and he was sure that the dwarf could keep them informed of the child's life.

The child would be protected, safe in every way that Kiara could make possible, and taught how to look after themselves.

The ritual would save them, would save _Andra_, and whatever type of child it turned out to be, it would be safe, happy, loved and wanted in a way that Alistair hadn't been. He may never be able to claim the child in anyway—if fact Alistair thought Morrigan would be horrified if he did, not that he would because he loved Andra too much—but at least the child he was going to sire would have parents and love and everything that Alistair had wanted when he was young, but was told he was selfish for wanting.

It was all he had ever wanted for any child he sired.

* * *

Andra stared blankly as the Drydens cleaned up the place with the help of the Wardens and Companions.

Alistair was going to have a child, a child with Morrigan, a child that Andra may never be able to give him.

Here they were planning to take the throne from Loghain, to secure it against the Orlesians and Anora, and Andra may never give him an heir.

Being a mother had been one of her deepest wishes from the moment that Oren was placed in to her arms and now she may never have that.

It hurt, it hurt in a way that was different from the pain she had felt before. It wretched her heart and made her want to cry out, to scream that this wasn't fair.

But Andra had learnt a long time ago that life wasn't fair and only a fool would expect it to be.

Still, she wished that she could have the luxury to scream and cry in a way that she hadn't done since she was a young child.

She wasn't aware of that the fact that Kiara was already working on a way that meant that Andra and Alistair could have children with the help of Leona and Morrigan—they may have to have some magical help from Leona, but they would have children. She wasn't aware that her wish would be granted, that Kiara would make sure of it.

Morrigan's child would save the Wardens and Andra's child would save Ferelden from war, so much resting on tiny shoulders, shoulders of children that weren't even quickening in the womb.

* * *

**AN: And next will be the joy of Denerim, the beginning of the Quest for the Sacred Ashes and maybe even a trip back to Ostagar? Who knows? I don't!**

**Twilight Pairings;**

**Paul 11**

**Tanya 11**

**For Game of Thrones;**

**Rhaegar 2**

**Lyanna 2**

**Jaime 1**

**Oberyn 1**

**Oh my god, Male Shepard is having the lead in the poll! Also need help with starting off the Mass Effect story, I'm stuck and all that. **


	40. Chapter 40

Denerim in the game had looked almost empty, there was hardly any sign a Blight was coming, and of course it didn't go with what reality showed as Kiara knew all too well.

"Why have they shut the gates?" Andra was scowling under her hood as she witnessed common people plead with stone-faced guard to let them in. "Are they that heartless they won't help?"

A city of tents had erected itself outside of Denerim's walls, it was noisy and crowded. A breeding ground for disease, Andra knew and far from the safety of the King's men.

This was what Anora let happen to her people? To Cailan's people? And any hesitation, and remorse, for dethroning Cailan's Queen was gone. The boy of her memories, the man that had died with his people, would be horrified to see his people brought to this state; homeless, hungry, dirty and afraid.

They were denied the protection of the King's Knights and army. This would not stand.

"Lady Cousland?"

It was automatic for her head to rise and turn to the call and only Alistair's protective grasp to her arm reminded her that it was a bad idea but by then it was too late. If it had been one of Howe's or Loghain's men then Andra would have brought their death out of carelessness. Luckily for them, it was a Cousland man.

"Ser Henry?" his name fell easily from her lips though she was confused. "What are you doing here?"

The tall knight's weary face broke into a smile as he stepped forward, one large hand raking through his dirty blonde hair.

"I had hoped you had survived," he admitted, looking more relieved when he noticed the presence of the Companions, even bowing his head to Kiara who nodded back. "Highever declared to protect the people, we will not bow to the words of the traitor Howe."

It was as Andra looked around that she noticed other armed men and women, all wearing the torn and dirty herald of Highever as they protected and kept order in the city of tents and bedrolls.

"You've been denied access to Denerim too," Kiara observed as she eyed the stone-faced guards that created a wall between the refugees and the gates to Denerim. "I'm guessing Howe believes this will break your will eventually?"

"That was my guess as well," Ser Henry confirmed grimly and Kiara scoffed.

"He should have known the stubbornness of Highever wasn't restricted to the Cousland family," she stated and both Andra and Henry nodded in agreement. "You'll do no good here and Denerim will not open her gates while Loghain has his claws into her throne."

"What would you have us to, Lady Cousland?" Ser Henry asked, staring at her with respect in his dark green gaze.

"Gather the refugees, Denerim will not open their gates to them," Andra began and Alistair stepped closer to her and let his hood shift just so that Henry could see his face, see the unmistakable look of a Theirin as hope seemed to dawn in his gaze as he stared at both Andra and Alistair, two ancient bloodlines joined together, a vision of the future.

"We have an old Warden's fortress, Soldier's Peak," Alistair began. "Some can make that their home, but it doesn't have the room for all of them. It would be best if the refugees broke into smaller groups so they don't draw Darkspawn attention as they move across the land."

"Head for the coasts, look for unclaimed islands on the map and send the refugees with boats to them. The Free Marches will most likely start turning away refugees now," Andra continued.

Kiara watched in satisfaction as her chosen King and Queen began their rule just outside of Denerim and amongst a city of tents without Loghain even knowing. This is what she had known would happen—or at least hoped, but she wouldn't admit that she wasn't certain of her choice till that moment—as soldiers and knights drifted over to get their orders before going to different parts of the camp.

The refugees began to quietly pack up, trusting in the knights and soldiers that had stayed outside of the walls to protect them, and word was being spread of another Theirin Prince with his chosen bride that would get rid of the Usurper—Loghain Mic Tir had once been regarded as a hero, but by the people in this camp? He was a dirty Usurper that needed to be dealt with. Kiara would get her little Companion friends spread the word, the story would be going across Ferelden without Loghain being able to stop it.

Some of the soldiers and knights—an almost staggering amount had survived from Highever—would stay with the refugees and protect them while others were going to march to Redcliffe.

"And I thought that I was the only one with the plan," Morrigan's breath tickled against her ear and Kiara smiled as she wrapped her arms around Morrigan's waist.

"We all have plans here," Kiara brushed a kiss to Morrigan's brow.

Everyone played a game even if some weren't aware of the game. As Cersei Lannister said to Eddard Stark; _'you win or you die'_

* * *

It was decided that the Companions would enter Denerim as it was just too risky for the Wardens to go—somehow Faren had been able to argue his way with them—and they had entered to look for Brother Genitivi.

Kiara had let her Companions poke around his home as his 'assistant' attempted to convince them to go back to Princess' Inn and keep an eye on where they were going and what they were doing—he was failing on both accounts as Kiara wasn't even remotely buying his bullshit and there was just too many people for him to keep an eye on at once.

It was Zevran who found the body of the real assistant, he had slunk out from the back bedroom with a grim look on his face making Kiara nod while the fake turned towards him, panic appearing on his face as he realised where Zev had come from.

He hadn't been able to even open his mouth before Kiara's blade was ripping through his back and out of his stomach. He gurgled, blood slipping out of his mouth as he stared in disbelief at the blade piercing through him and Kiara ripped it out without a second thought as he fell and died in a pool of red blood.

"Damn," Malika cursed with an unhappy turn to her mouth as she began to reach for her money-purse, stepping out of the blood's way. "The pissing Ashes are real, aren't they?"

Elion pretended to polish the golden coins that Malika handed over in smugness while Faren just pressed a grinning kiss to her cheek as he slipped the coins into his own purse. Kiara wasn't even surprised that they had bet on it, if she hadn't known the Ashes were real than she would probably not believed in the myth like Malika did.

"That's a good thing, right?" Vala asked as she swiped an apple from the table and took a big bite. "That means we're not running after a myth and we can get the Arl awake and on our side?"

Malika just grumbled while Ellana patted the unhappy dwarf on her shoulder with a smile that was trying to be sympathetic but was really too amused.

"Where are they?" Morrigan asked, looking almost as displeased as Malika at the fact they were real, only she hadn't bothered making a bet about it which Kiara was certain she was pleased about now she was being proven wrong.

"Some town named Haven," Zevran replied as he handed over the letter to Elion while Kiara cleaned her short-sword on the fake's robe. "Never heard of it before."

"Haven?" Elion read the letter the Brother had sent his assistant. "That sounds like it's going to be a wonderful place."

Anything with a comforting name like Haven would end up being a hellhole, Elion knew from experience. Especially considering that he would be with Kiara and Malika as well as the Wardens, it was going to be a lovely trip, he could already tell.

"It's in the mountains," Saya stated as she leaned over the map she had spread over Brother Genitivi's table. "It would be better for us to search for any Dalish clans still here before attempting to head there."

"Get the Treaties out of the way before we tackle the so-called myth," Kiara nodded, she agreed with that as she slid her sword back into its sheath. "Let's tell our friends the plan."

* * *

Travelling through Ferelden during the Blight wasn't as simple as following the main path as the soldiers patrolled the roads and not keeping to the road could end up with one walking straight into a battle as Ferelden was also in a civil war—what a prefect fuckin' time to start a bloody war! Who cares that a Blight is going on and Darkspawn was crawling across the land, no go on and fight amongst yourselves.

They hadn't wanted to enter the Bannorns as that was where most of the fighting was going on and where most of the Darkspawn was wrecking ever loving havoc. Kiara had resigned herself to the possibility especially when word came of a survivor from Ostagar was running like a mad man through the Bannorns and away from one of the Banns or something like that.

It was after they had caught up with him, got the key to Cailan's chest and realised it would probably be better if they split up for a while—Wynne, Andra and Alistair wanted to go back to Ostagar, had to go back to Ostagar and face their demons while the Wardens really needed the Dalish—that Lelianna's past came a knocking.

"What the fuck is wrong with people?!" Kiara was furious, she was tired and cold and wet because it had been raining for the last three days, Morrigan had been too busy whispering with others in the camp for them to have time to themselves—Morrigan was probably recruiting a few to off Flemeth for her—and Logan had lost his leg to a bear-trap which made Kiara want to pack him off to Kirkwall for Varric to look after but knew she couldn't and all they had to eat for the last four days was watery grey porridge—Kiara hated porridge, had always hated porridge, and though she had become a normal-eater instead of being fussy, porridge wasn't what she would ever choice to eat willingly.

So when some would-be assassins attacked them and almost hit Vala instead of their target of Lelianna—Kiara was half-certain they'd end up sleeping with each other soon which part of her wasn't okay with because Vala was the baby of the group and too young for a bard lover damn it!—well Kiara may have snapped in a way that made Jowan look green—and he was a bloody Blood-mage! Get a stronger stomach man!—and the others standing back in various degrees of fascination, amusement, disgust and fear as Kiara used Oghern's hammer—the dwarf hadn't even protested as she near-ripped it off his back and leapt forward with a furious battle-cry—to make them into a bloody smear on the ground.

"There's a Blight going on and suddenly everyone decides to kill each other?!" Kiara almost shouted as she lifted the hammer again and again, ignoring the blood that was splattering her—she had long ago got used to blood, Hydra and SHIELD helped with that. "And people call me insane!"

"I wonder where they get that silly idea from," Elion remarked drily as Zevran almost flinched at the force the human put behind one of her swings and crushed a skull again.

Zev wanted to gape, this woman should have been a warrior with that strength she wielded. Zev had known she was strong, but hadn't really how strong till he watched her swing the mighty warhammer with relative ease though he should of expected it consider how much she excised and pushed her body's limit. Her muscle tone was impressive but misleading as though Kiara was very much toned, she wasn't bulky like one would expect considering her strength.

"And this is why she's considered a Cadash," Malika explained proudly to Shale. "Only human to be ever considered part of the family and some of the family have actually married humans before."

"She is remarkably able at crushing fleshy things," Shale mused thoughtfully and approvingly.

Faren was eyeing Kiara with wary respect and realised just what may become of him if he broke Malika's heart. He flinched as she purposely grounded some bone—flesh still valiantly attached in some places—into dust. And he had thought the woman was scary before she had shown this since of her temper.

"I think they are dead," Elion pointed out when Kiara paused to catch her breathe back. "I don't think you can make them much deader, but you are welcome to waste more of our time trying."

Kiara huffed as she pushed her hair out of her face and surveyed her work before nodding in slight contentment.

"So," she began as she looked at Alistair and Andra. "Who's going where?"

"She's your friend," Alistair accused his future bride as he backed away with his hands up in surrender. "You deal with her."

Andra sighed and realised just why her father had always seemed so stressed when dealing with Kiara in the past.

* * *

**AN: And that's the end of another short chapter to you guys. At the moment I'm stuck fleshing out my Harry Potter story and I'm hoping to get through the whole Blight saga soon without rushing it. **

**It seems I may bring out my Game of Thrones story out before Mass Effect as I'm finding that easier to start off with. The Game of Thrones story will have a mix of book and TV themes and stuff—more TV as I'm only half-way through the second book which means I'm so far behind. **

**One reviewer has asked me if I'm going to gender-bend our girl and I want to know what you think of that idea.**


	41. Chapter 41

Edric Cadash listened as his spies told him how his sister, Malika, his adopted sister, Kiara, and their Companions were doing in Ferelden.

Only Kiara could get Malika to willing fight a Blight, he thought to himself in wry amusement, and only Kiara could somehow find the Legendary Paragon Ceridian and have him forge a crown for Bhelen Aeducan—the choice that the whole House had hoped for. And only both of them could somehow find the Golem that the Cadash family had been exiled from Orzammar for, and find out that the Golem was once a member of the House Cadash.

Kiara was adopted into the House without her knowledge and Edric wondered if Malika was ever going to tell her adopted sister that she had badgered the rest of the House into adopting her—something they hadn't done before, even when some of their family married humans as the thought if they had married in then they don't need to be adopted in, and something that none of the House could moan about now.

They could smugly say that two daughters of their House was involved with choosing the King of Orzammar, had found the Paragon Ceridian before his long overdue death, and fought in the Fifth Blight.

Edric would be more smug, he had been the one that backed his little sister's petition and never tried to make Malika break of her friendship with Kiara—he had seen them bond after that very first job together—and could happily say to the older members of his House that he 'told them so'.

Perhaps he should assign some of his branch of the Carta to go to Ferelden and help with the Blight, couldn't have his two favourite sisters dying after all—he also had heard they had each picked up a lover, he had to make sure they were right for them, he was a good big brother after all.

* * *

It had been decided with Kiara's impressive show of temper—which almost gave Alistair second thoughts of allowing the two women to raise his son until he realised that Kiara had only reacted so violently because of the damage done to Logan and the close-call that Vala had with the arrow meant for Lelianna—and the smear she had left on the ground fresh in everyone's mind that Kiara wasn't allowed to go searching for the Dalish.

The Dalish in Elion's words were; "Prickly bastards when it came to Shem when they are in a good mood" and Kiara's fraying temper would just lead to a confrontation that no one needed or wanted to happen especially as they actually needed the Dalish to fight against the Darkspawn.

Andra hoped that taking Kiara to Ostagar where so many Darkspawn would no doubt be would help sort out Kiara's temper—or at least keep her temper focused on something else.

It was also decided that one of the ex-Dalish elves would be best suited to talking to the Dalish clan that they ran into. Melima didn't want to leave Andra, didn't want to go and see another clan when the wound of leaving her own clan was still fresh which only left Ellana and Elion.

The twins agreed to do the talking—very reluctantly in Elion's case—which meant that the Companions were splitting up again. Malika and Saya was firm with sticking with Kiara while Vala was curious of the Dalish way of life and wanted to go with Ellana and Elion. Kiara had decided that Logan was best suited to staying with the elves as Ostagar wasn't a place where Kiara felt comfortable taking Logan in his new state—he was an old dog and now three-legged, she felt she was asking too of her canine friend if she brought him back to Ostagar—and made them agree to leave him with the Dalish clan if they had to go on some sort of quest—which had made Elion narrow his eyes.

* * *

"Andaran atish'an, my friend," a Dalish hunter greeted, moving forward and away from her partners to greet them—or more likely Ellana and Elion—warmly. "You have come a long way, I give you the welcome of our clan."

She paused and gave a lingering glance at the group behind the two Dalish—Ellana had suggested that it would be better for them to lead the group when they encountered any Dalish instead of the Wardens, Sereda had agreed despite being put in charge of the group by Andra and Alistair as those two had gone to Ostagar, it had already been decided that Ellana should do the talking after all. "These are curious companions you have. Might I ask the purpose of your visit?"

"We come with the Wardens to request your aid in stopping the Blight," Ellana explained as she gestured Sereda forward—a new Warden blue standard, freshly washed from Soldier's Peak, under her dwarven armour and proclaiming her as Warden to all.

They were done with hiding who they were and what Order they came from. They almost had all the pieces needed to fight the Blight and displace Loghain—Kiara was secretly hoping that Alistair ended up killing the bloody fool, something she had shared with Morrigan and the other Companions, and something they agreed with.

"The Grey Wardens? You….have joined their ranks?" she asked in curiosity and even slight shock.

"In a way," Ellana allowed with a smile—the polite smile that she had learnt as First to their old clan and one she had to use a lot when dealing with clients as she was the better people-person despite what most people thought about the Dalish.

"How unusual!" the Hunter exclaimed before colouring. "Excuse my surprise, I will take you to the Keeper right away."

Ellana and Elion led the way—Elion with a scowl and a hard grip on his bow—with Sereda, Lendanis, Leona, Vala, Lelianna, the three legged Logan with Stanton hovering by his side and Oghern following—the dwarf was still put out by the blood, flesh and bone that was covering the flat of his hammer though had wisely kept his tongue, Felsi would be put out if he couldn't verbally spar with her anymore amongst over things.

The others was with Andra, Alistair and Wynne heading back to Ostagar, they would meet up with each other at Haven—or at least on the way to Haven, depending how long each group took with their tasks.

* * *

Elion refrained from kicking the corpse of one of the werewolves that they had just killed and damned Kiara in a string of curses. He should have known she had known something with the condition she put on them when it came to Logan! But no, he had let it go and now they had to deal with a Keeper that was obviously keeping secrets, talking werewolves and a pissed off Forest!

The Free Marches had never been this much trouble! Obviously they had stayed in Ferelden too long! Kiara and Malika just attracted trouble and somehow, Elion decided in that moment, they had attracted a bloody Blight!

"Perhaps Zev should have stayed with us," Vala whispered to Lelianna and Ellana. "He'd be able to calm Elion down."

Ellana's smile became a bit sharp at the mention of her brother's lover.

"Elion is calm enough for our task," Ellana stated evenly as Vala and Lelianna exchanged doubtful glances as they watched Elion rant how it was all Kiara's and Malika's fault, and how the Free Marches were never this much trouble.

They decided not to argue with Ellana, especially when she was smiling like that.

Vala had come to the opinion that Zev was either very brave or had a death wish when it came to openly showing affection to Elion in front of Ellana as Ellana's smile became just a bit more sharper, a bit more deadlier, as she watched—Vala had also came to the opinion that Elion seemed almost cute when he blushed under Zev's affections and attempted to scowl at his lover as Zev didn't seem to know what subtle was despite being an assassin.

* * *

"This is all your pissing fault!"

"What did I do now?"

"You agreed to help the pissing Warden's!"

"We've already been over this! And I don't know why you are complaining, you finally have a bloke willingly to fuck your drunk arse!"

"I know my arse is amazing, but you don't have to bring it into this,"

"Please, I've seen better. I'm fucking better!"

"Well we all knew it wasn't her sunny personality that drew you to Morrigan,"

"Be careful Mal, I may accidently stab you by mistake."

"How can you accidently stab me by mistake?!"

"You look amazingly like a genlock!"

"Fuck you! Don't joke about that! And keep that bloody pissing blade away from me! I'm too pretty to die!"

"Of course you are,"

"Damn straight I am,"

"Well this is easier than last time," Alistair commented from beside her and Andra didn't glance at her lover as she stared at the whirlwind that was Malika and Kiara as they argued and took down Darkspawn _like_ they were the Wardens with Saya protecting their backs and picking off the flanks from a slight distance.

Morrigan was flicking through that black book as they waited for the two—three if they counted the relentlessly calm and deadly Saya—women wore themselves out defeating all the Darkspawn who had the bad luck of sticking around Ostagar. She was speaking in low tones with Zevran, Sten Faren and Jowan about something—Jowan looked a bit terrified, Zevran and Sten was considering and Faren kept sending glances towards Malika.

Andra decided she'd find out what Morrigan was requesting from them and why Morrigan obviously wasn't asking Kiara to deal with it.

"I must say I'm enjoying this," Wynne spoke, sounding faintly bemused by her feeling but mostly dark approving as she watched another Darkspawn head go flying because one of Kiara's blades.

They were idly following the fight when Alistair suddenly let out a wounded noise, following his gaze, Andra almost gave the same noise as she bore witness to what the Darkspawn had done to King Cailan.

"Dear Maker," Wynne raised her hand to cover her mouth in shock, horror and slight disgust.

"We have to get him down," Alistair's voice was firm and Andra nodded.

It was almost hard to believe that _that_ was what was left of the boy she had once known, the boy that was Fergus' friend, the only one she believed mourned her family's death like she did.

He had been a brave king, had died with his people instead of hiding away, and Andra was going to make sure people remembered that, remembered him as he was, instead of the way that rumours portrayed him—seeing what she had, she doubted that Anora had been ruling almost solely since Cailan married her and took the throne. If she had then why was the Kingdom falling apart now? Even with the Blight, the Kingdom should be in a better shape, but it wasn't and Andra fully blamed Anora and, to a lesser degree, Loghain.

He would be remembered as being brave, of being a warrior king, a man who died with his men and refused to let them fight alone. Andra vowed to his rotting corpse that she would make sure they remembered him, that Anora and Loghain would regret causing such harm to his Kingdom and the lies that they had spread.

He had been Fergus' best friend once, had been the first person to take her seriously when she had declared she was going to become a Warden, had told her stories and tales of them. He deserved better.

* * *

"You did not say she could turn into a dragon!" Faren shouted as he stomped into the camp, face streaked with soot and a hint of blood.

Malika gaped for a single moment before bounding towards him worriedly, hand gripping his and turning to face Morrigan with a scowl.

"You sent him after someone that turns into a pissing dragon?" she demanded as Shale appeared, nursing some melted stone, and Zevran pulled Jowan after him—the mage was sweating, swearing and bloody.

"She sent us after her mother," Zevran informed Malika, not even a smirk curling his lips when he dropped Jowan to the ground before throwing a book at Morrigan.

"Are you insane?!" it was Melima that said that which showed just how much the Dalish knew about Flemeth. "They could have been killed!"

"Why didn't you send us?" Malika demanded and Morrigan glanced at Kiara which told the dwarf everything.

She wasn't willing to risk Kiara, but she had been willing to risk Faren, Shale, Jowan and Zev instead. It said what the future would be like with Morrigan, she'd never risk Kiara but she would risk anyone else.

Malika could almost understand that, but she was too angry that Morrigan had used _her_ lover to be forgiving.

"Morrigan," Kiara spoke and the disapproval was clear in the set of her mouth which just made Morrigan set her chin and stare back without a hint of remorse or guilt.

* * *

**AN: Here is another chapter, not my best as I'm still ill but I wanted to get this chapter out there. **

**Also I remember that someone asked if I was going to do a Dragon Age fanfic back in the height of the Elven Empire and I will admit that the idea is growing on me though I won't be starting it until I have finished A Magical Life and When In Thedas. I just wanted to know your thoughts.**


	42. Chapter 42

Flemeth stirred from her hidden safe haven and felt her other half die, the power traveling through their bond and re-joining her, strengthening her.

So Morrigan had decided to dispose of her dear mother in hope of stopping her from possessing her.

Flemeth smiled grimly, truly Morrigan had nothing to fear and perhaps one day she'd know that though her daughter would never feel guilty as she had seen Flemeth as a threat and 'killed' her just like Flemeth had taught her.

Morrigan was truly her mother's daughter.

Flemeth wondered who her daughter had used, some of the Wardens? Or whoever they picked up on their travels?

Morrigan would never risk Kiara so Flemeth was confident that none of Kiara's Companions were likewise involved as Kiara was almost as protective of them as Morrigan was of her.

No, Morrigan would have used the Wardens or their allies to despatch her. Only those she either trusted not to betray her or those she knew would simply like to kill a mage.

* * *

Elion hated being around the Dalish, being around people who should have been his kin, and some part of himself hated himself for feeling like that as he had been raised and taught to be proud of being Dalish.

It was hard to feel that same pride when your clan, your family, banishes you because you like the company of other men. It's hard to look back on the memories and not sneer at the fact he had once honestly believed he was better than other people because he was Dalish.

The whole trip was showing him just why he disliked and sometimes hated his former life. Fucking Keepers, fucking grudges! Elion had been done with all that the moment his Keeper had turned his back on him, when his clan and family had turned their backs on him.

He had Kiara, Malika, Saya and Logan, had Zevran, Vala, Faren and Morrigan now and still had Ellana.

He didn't need the Dalish, who clung onto forgotten history and a destroyed culture.

He couldn't wait to leave.

* * *

Ellana didn't mention the name Lavellan as she talked and smiled with the Dalish, feeling a keen sense of distance towards them though they had once been her people, and made sure Elion didn't have to speak though his glares and scowl spoke volumes.

The Dalish was giving him odd looks as they were not used to facing hostility from their own kind—Elion had stopped being their kind when they left.

It took a while for Ellana to let go of the Dalish, of the teachings she had eagerly learnt, but she had never regretted leaving with Elion, would never regret being with him.

The Companions had become home, family and clan and that was more than enough for her.

It was strange being amongst Dalish again and she just wanted to go home, but the Wardens needed 'Dalish' elves to gain the alliance of any Dalish Clans still in Ferelden and Kiara had decided to help the Wardens, had heeded the call when others hadn't, and Ellana wouldn't disappoint her leader, her friend and her sister.

So she'd stay and make sure the new Keeper would keep her word before she returned to her family, her clan.

* * *

Elion was almost reminded of the first time they had all made camp in front of Flemeth's house with how divided the camp of the other half of the group was.

"I still say we should just kill them all," Malika's causal voice drifted to them as the 'Dalish' group began their way towards their companions, hands on full hips with Faren leaning against her.

"We can't just kill off a whole village!" Alistair was protesting as he ran a hand through his dark blonde hair, Andra stood solidly beside him, giving him her strength and support.

"The Saarebas has already said that they are guilty of blood-magic," Sten pointed out in that calm and collected tone of his, his arms folded as he stood behind Faren. "You were only too eager to kill the newest mage and he is only a single blood-mage."

It said something about either Jowan or the group itself when said mage didn't flinch and merely frowned at the memory of how he was to be killed in Redcliffe if it hadn't been Lendanis. Then again Zevran had been hired to kill them and Kiara had threatened to kill him in turn before he joined and was now at ease with Kiara.

"We don't know all of them are though," Andra argued with a hint of a frown.

"They all have bloody altars in their houses," Zevran pointed out, golden brown eyes meeting Elion's tired gold eyes. "Of course they could be there just for decoration."

Elion almost smirked at the biting sarcasm of his lover as tanned hands entwined together easily.

"The amount of blood-magic in the village and on that mountain is beyond belief," Morrigan stated clearly, looking both frustrated and disturbed—which should have told them just how bad the magic was. "They must have been using it for centuries."

"This place reeks of blood and twisted magic," Saya spoke up, arms crossed under her breasts. "This whole place will have to cleansed before anyone settles here again."

"You all realise this is pointless, correct?" Shale's dry and rumbling tone broke through the argument. "The Fearsome One has already left to take care of it."

And that was the reason why Elion couldn't see Kiara standing or sitting around as the others argued.

"Shit," Alistair cursed, turning to head into Haven.

"You'll be too late," Ellana stated easily knowingly. "Let Kiara take care of the villagers while we rest for a bit then we'll join her to find that Brother the Arlessa was raving about."

* * *

Kiara before anything else was a trained killer, she was an assassin on a different type compared to Zevran. Zevran had already shared tales where he changed his mind and only an accident had saved him from the Crows wrath, Kiara had never hesitated when a target was in her sights though she had her own rules; no children, no people under her protection and not in front of children.

Haven didn't have children, Haven wasn't under her protection and thus she had no problem from slipping away from the group and heading into the village to kill them.

Malika, Morrigan and Saya were probably keeping the argument going so Alistair and the other didn't notice her absences.

She idly wondered who would be the person that let it slip she had left as her blade buried into a man's back and pierced his heart and her second blade slit his throat before she pulled the first out with that wet sound she was so familiar to.

A dismissive flick of her second blade got rid of some of the blood before she faded back into shadows to go to her next victim.

* * *

"So a Blood-Dragon-Cult, a High-Dragon, was protecting the Sacred Ashes of your prophet?" Malika asked as she sat between the horns of the High Dragon and stared down at the humans. "You humans are weird."

"We'll render it down after we get the Ashes," Sereda decided without looking at the humans of the group because she could understand Malika's point and frankly that was a weirder thought then the humans entrusting the ashes of their most sacred person to the protection of a Blood-Cult that ended up believing that a High Dragon was Andraste reborn.

Humans were weird, Sereda agreed silently.

Lelianna had always been faithful, had always believed in the Maker, even when she was a Bard. It was almost impossible to think of her not believing in him and his prophet bride. It's just her faith had increased after Marjolaine's betrayal and after Revered Mother Dorothea's kindness.

She had perhaps doubted, but she had never lost faith, and she felt her faith was rewarded.

Andraste, Bride of the Maker, had been found in a beautiful temple lost for some many years but now found.

It was a beautiful moment that Lelianna knew she would treasure.

Lelianna had to bite her lip to stop her from attempting to stop Kiara from taking any of Her Ashes from her urn, but the mercenary—the first to strip of her clothing and fearlessly walk through the fire—was surprising gentle and careful as she took just a tiny amount.

"Saya, Ellana, cast some wards around this room," Kiara ordered as she walked back to them. "It needs to be protected."

Instead of giving the tiny bottle of Ashes to any the Wardens, Kiara held the bottle towards Lelianna.

"Will you look after this?" Her tone was casual but her gaze was warm—a gaze she hadn't seen directed to her since it became obvious that Lelianna and Vala were beginning a relationship.

"Of course," Lelianna gently took the bottle. "I'm honoured."

And she was, Lelianna was so deeply honoured and in awe of being this close to the Ashes of the Holy Andraste.

Kiara said nothing as she turned to a scowling Morrigan that through Kiara's dark coloured tunic into the other woman's face, but then Kiara hadn't needed to.

She had chosen Lelianna for a simple fact that she knew how much it would mean to her and for the first time since Marjolaine, Tug and Sketch she felt like she belonged, belonged with the Companions, belonged with these people in a way that she hadn't before.

* * *

**AN: So short chapter, but it's finally out so yay!**

**You'll probably notice that I've taken down both A Magical Life and Charging with the Bulls, I would like to say sorry for that, but I have a reason for it.**

**I know I'll never finish any of them if I kept trying to writing three at once and I also wanted to do some rewriting of AML and CWTB. I will now be—hopefully—fully focused on When in Thedas and finish it. **

**Please review and tell me what you'd like to see in the next chapters. **


	43. Chapter 43

"You are either very bold or very stupid to threaten the teyrn in front of witnesses," Ser Cauthrien commented as she looked at Andra Cousland.

The late teyrn's daughter was tense, her hand wrapped firmly around the hilt of her family's sword, blue eyes hard and narrow as she looked at Howe in hatred and rage.

"I believe you are mistaken Ser Cauthrien," Kiara's voice cut through the tension like a sharp blade, her footsteps a whisper against the stone and rugs as she walked towards them with Saya a beat behind her. "Lady Warden Andra did not threaten your Lord, Teyrn Loghain, and he is the only Teyrn here until Fergus Cousland is confirmed dead and then it will be Lady Andra who will be the other Teyrn, or Teyrna in her case."

Some tension left Andra's body at Kiara's words, she recognised the tone her old mentor spoke with and she easily stepped back to Alistair's welcoming and comforting side as Kiara prowled forward looking like a wolf on a hunt that had smelt blood and weakness.

"You are under the mistaken impression that the Couslands still hold that title," Howe spoke in his smug voice and Kiara just raised an unimpressed at him. "King Loghain has granted my family the title in recognition of discovering their treason."

"How odd," Kiara began lightly. "King Cailan claimed your actions were treason and as the last King of Ferelden until the next King is confirmed by the Landsmeet then his declaration stands. And he declared that Andra Cousland could have your head."

Andra was pleased by the way Howe paled just slightly while Cauthrien looked uncertain as she glanced at her Lord.

"I have granted him the title of teyrn," Loghain spoke up and Kiara sent him a cutting look.

"But you have no right, only the King of Ferelden or the Landsmeet can give the titles of Teyrn to someone else," she reminded him pointedly. "Not that anyone of the Landsmeet would give Howe the title considering he broke a centuries old alliance, broke guest rights and betrayed his friend by slaughtering his family and his people—it shows a lack of Ferelden honour and loyalty—and of course with the Late King Cailan calling his actions to be treason."

"I uncovered their treason!" Howe spat and Kiara looked at him evenly.

"And you didn't take it to the King? You decided that you had the right to take the King's justice in your own hands and massacre a whole family?" she paused and sneered at Howe, looking the picture of a noble's daughter despite the fact she was dressed in a simple dark green tunic and suede trousers. "Such arrogance is unbecoming, Arl Howe."

Howe flushed darkly as he glared at Kiara and she simple smirked before she turned to Andra and bowed her head just so.

"King Cailan's declaration of Howe's treason and the warrant for his death—signed by his hand and sealed by his signet—is making its rounds around Denerim as we speak, my Lady Cousland. No doubt soon you'll have him or just his head delivered to you," Kiara informed her pleasantly and Andra almost barred her teeth at Howe when the man stumbled back, looking almost sick as he stared uncertainly between Kiara, Andra and Loghain—Loghain didn't return his stare, already the teyrn was building a wall between them as he recognised, like Andra herself could, that Kiara was telling the truth. "Especially when the mercenaries that Howe hired learns of his disloyalty—if he could do that to a friend, what would he do to the men he's meant to be paying after all?"

Kiara then stared thoughtfully at Loghain.

"Of course we could deal with him now if there are no objections?" Kiara raised an eyebrow to Loghain and he stared back evenly with hard dark eyes.

"Loghain?" Howe's voice was uncertain as he called out to his ally.

"There are no objections," Loghain stated evenly, cutting his alliance without a care, and Andra didn't even hesitate, her blade rang as she drew it from its sheath and Howe was unable to do anything as the family sword—the sword of the family he betrayed and ordered to be massacred—thrust through his neck.

Cauthrien had recoiled in horror as Howe's blood squirted and seeped as Andra kicked his deadweight off her sword and he landed on the stone floor with a wet thump.

"The Couslands have taken their blood-rite," Andra raised her chin proudly and stared at the knight that had dared inferred in matters that did not involve her.

"You never meet an enemy without a weapon," Saya muttered in disgust behind Kiara who smiled darkly.

"His arrogance was truly unbecoming," she repeated to her Qunari sister in mutter. "I would have dragged out his death longer, my Lady."

"He would have tried to run," Andra commented as she stared down at the man that betrayed and killed her family. "He was always a coward."

Yes, Kiara agreed silently, Howe was a coward and would always be. It was Howe's actions, his alliance with Loghain, that made Kiara firmly believe that Loghain had been planning his betrayal.

"You may go now, Teyrn Loghain, Ser Cauthrien," Kiara dismissed and Loghain grit his teeth but turned sharply on his heel, Ser Cauthrien right behind him.

"We had things— "Kiara cut off Arl Eamon.

"Everything under control?" she raised her eyebrow at him. "If I didn't cut in, we'd still have to deal with Howe and Ser Cauthrien wouldn't see just how ruthless Loghain has become. He let an ally be killed in front him. This has only helped us."

Eamon scowled, but said nothing. He couldn't actually argue against her as it was true.

"Now if you will excuse me, your Highness, Lady Andra, Arl Eamon," Kiara inclined her head at Andra, Alistair and Eamon before she had turned to leave, Saya dragging Howe's corpse with her.

She had more important things to do then deal with Eamon.

* * *

"Why are we here, Revered Mother?" Bann Sighard asked as he paced in front of the fire.

He didn't have the time for this, already too much time was being spent getting ready for the Landsmeet when he should be out there looking for his son. Oswyn was out there somewhere and Sighard needed to find him.

"I am not sure," Perpetua admitted as she shared a glance with Boann—the other Revered Mother had been most put out when she was banned from the Alienage as she considered them her flock. "I only got a note from the Grand Cleric for me to gather you here."

"The Grand Cleric?" Bann Alfstanna asked sharply—she had been trying to get hold of the Grand Cleric since she arrived, hoping the woman knew where Irminric was.

She hadn't heard from her brother since before this whole mess began.

Bann Leonas Bryland placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, the older man knew just how worried she was becoming for her brother.

"Why would the Grand Cleric call us now? And here?" Gallagher Wulff asked as he glanced around the rather plain house they had been directed too.

Right across from the Gnawed Noble where he could be getting drunk in an attempt to drown his grief.

"I did not call us here," Grand Cleric Elemena declared as she swept into the room with the owner of the house, a Brother Genitivi, showing her in. "This meeting was called by another."

Revered Mothers, Boann and Perpetua immediately flanked her.

"And who has the power to over the Grand Cleric of Ferelden?" Bann Wulff snorted.

"I wouldn't call it having power over anyone," an even voice said calmly.

Heads snapped around to the door and Sighard gave a cry.

"Oswyn!"

The young blonde man smiled weakly from his place in the arms of a female Qunari.

"Father," he croaked and reached out with a trembling hand.

"What did you do to my son?!" Sighard demanded as he held his son's hand, looking like he wanted to do nothing but pull him into his own arms and only didn't knowing he'd hurt his son more.

"They saved me, Father," Oswyn told him as the Qunari moved further into the room followed by two elven men carrying another man between them.

"Irminric!" Alfstanna cried out moving towards her brother. "What's wrong with him?"

"Lyrium withdrawal mostly," a golden haired elven woman followed the trio of men. "Lord Oswyn is suffering from the aftereffects of torture." There was an angry tilt to her mouth as she directed the group to place down their precious burdens.

"Torture?" Sighard repeated, aghast, as his son—wearing only a cloak and his small clothes—was carefully lowered into one of the wooden seats by the Qunari woman. "Who tortured my son?"

"Arl Howe did," an unmistakeable human woman announced easily as she stepped in behind four of her people, a black haired woman beside her and a dwarven couple and red-headed elven behind her.

Kiara and her Companions had called this meeting.

"I'll kill him," Sighard declared, not even arguing as the elven woman began to mend some of Osywn's wounds with glowing magic.

"The Lady Andra Cousland has already dealt with him," Kiara told him. "As was within her rights. The real person you should feel angry about is with the person who allowed him to do such things to your families."

"Loghain," Alfstanna realised, her hands resting on her brother's shoulders as he trembled and cried under his breath. "He allowed this?"

"Like he allowed Lady Cousland kill Howe in front of him when it was pointed out he had no right to appoint Howe as a Teyrn and there were documents signed by King Cailan calling for his head," Kiara didn't look bothered as she sat down, the darker haired woman at her side and was looking at them with bright golden eyes.

"Why have you called us here?" Wulff cut in, narrowing his eyes at the calm dark-eyed woman.

"This is Warden Faren Brosca," she gestured to the lone male dwarf with shocking red hair. "He's here to stand for the Wardens' interest while I reveal certain information which will change the Landsmeet."

"What information?" Elemena asked, keeping an eye on one her Chantry Templars.

"Under simple questioning, you'll find that Irminric will testify that Teyrn Loghain hired a Blood-mage to poison Arl Eamon, he imprisoned Templar Irminric and let Howe do as he willed," Kiara began and Elemena stiffened in fury.

"Loghain interfered with one of my Templars?" Elemena hissed while Alfstanna scowled as she tenderly brushed her brother's sweaty hair out of his face. "Interfered with their sacred duty?"

"Yes," Kiara confirmed before turning to Bann Sighard. "Your son, Oswyn, will can confirm our charges of treason and regicide—the soldiers were ordered to withdraw before King Calian and his troops were overrun by Darkspawn."

Shocked whispers and gasps echoed the room.

"It's why I was taken," Oswyn spoke up. "One of my friends were there, he was given such orders, and told me about it overcome by guilt. Soon after he disappeared and I went looking for him, that's how I ended up in Howe's hands."

Sighard's face tightened with rage though his hands were gentle as he held his son's hand.

"Vala?" Kiara called and the red haired elf stepped forward, she placed a bundle of papers on the table and pushed it towards the others. "Those are documents signed by Loghain allowing Tevinter to take elves for slavery."

"Slavery is illegal in Ferelden," Leonas Bryland declared in outrage as he reached for the bundles. "By the Maker, Loghain has been selling our people. What has he been doing all these months?"

"Ignoring the fucking obvious, that a Blight has come and not the Orlesians," Warden Brosca spoke up, deep disgust obvious in his tone and on his face. "I've been to the Deeproads; I've seen the bloody army. They are coming, they've already taken the South while Loghain does nothing to combat it—he's been stopped other Wardens coming to help, claiming they are Orlesian spies."

Bann Wulff's hands tightened into fists as he listened, his sons were dead because of the Darkspawn, his holdings were overrun by Darkspawn and Loghain was banning their only hope of ending the Blight because of his paranoia when it came to Orlesians?

"He also had one of the Wardens locked up in Howe's dungeon," one of the men elves, darker skin with an Antivan accent, added in a way that was meant to sound helpful. "He also hired the Crows to deal with any surviving Wardens in Ferelden."

"He will not win the Landsmeet," Wulff declared grimly and Kiara smiled at him.

"The Landsmeet is not truly need," she told them. "Landsmeets are only called when there is no heir to the throne."

"There is no heir," Perpetua denied. "Queen Anora has not been pregnant once."

"Oh but there is an heir, with certain Theirin blood," Kiara told them.

"You are talking about the bastard that Eamon had supposedly raised," Alfstanna stated evenly, showing no hints of her own thoughts of Eamon's claims, and Kiara smiled again.

"He's not a bastard," she pulled a bundle of aged documents from her belt-bag and handed them to the Grand Cleric. "Alistair is Maric's son, so claimed by both his father and brother, and thus rightful ruler of Ferelden."

Elemena took the documents sharply and read them, inhaling sharping as she recognised Maric's hand and signet with Cailan's hand and his signet on another page.

"These are real," she breathed and silence overtook the room. "Maric claims Alistair as his son, giving him the name Theirin and all rights as Cailan had—he placed him in the care of Arl Eamon, who then sent Alistair to become a Templar when he was older. Cailan claims Alistair as his brother and heir despite being a Grey Warden, and that in the event of his death then Alistair is to take his rightful place on the throne."

"He is also engaged to the Lady Cousland," Kiara decided to add. "Even if he doesn't know much about courts and noble life, his wife will be there to help him until he gets the hang of things."

Leonas Bryland let out a laugh as he stared at Kiara.

"By the Maker, Loghain has been so focused on Eamon and the Wardens that he ignored his most dangerous enemy," Leonas was grinning as he spoke. "Prince Alistair and Lady Cousland are very fortunate to count you amongst their allies."

"You flatter me, Bann Bryland," Kiara said with a smile.

"Ser Kiara is correct," Elemena declared, ignoring Kiara's look at being called a Ser. "A Landsmeet is not truly needed, the throne has an heir, but Loghain must be dealt with—and he will, at the Landsmeet."

Kiara sat back in her seat, one hand finding Morrigan's, and was pleased.

And people said being a King-maker was hard.


	44. Chapter 44

Anora held her head high as she linked arms with her father, banishing the remains of the plans to betray him and join the Wardens from her mind. She'd had it all planned out and it would have worked if her father hadn't allowed the Cousland girl to kill Howe.

But it did not matter, not really, Ferelden would choose a bastard over their Queen to rule even if they ruled in favour of the Wardens then her father. Anora was certain of that—

Or at least she had been certain before the doors opened and she realised all the nobles were already there, standing with hard eyes, that the Grand Cleric and her Revered Mothers were there, and at the head of the hall was—

No one could deny that Alistair was the son of Maric and the brother of Cailan if they saw him now, Anora thought as she stared at where he was sat on a wooden throne-like chair beside the Cousland girl—he was dressed in polished gold armour with the Theirin crest on his chest while she was dressed in a dark Cousland blue dress with a golden cuirass with the Cousland crest on her chest, they were wearing matching gold and silver circlets.

Stood behind them in neat rows were soldiers in either Theirin colours or Cousland while to their left stood the surviving Wardens in Warden blue and with the Griffon proudly displayed on their chests with a Dalish, Dwarf and Mage to the side and just behind the Wardens—the embassies from the Ancient Treaties, Anora recognised.

While to the right of Alistair was the Companions, uniformed with dark coloured armour and a snarling hound on their chest.

Anora's mind stalled for a moment before whirling. Eamon couldn't have done this, couldn't have united the nobles of the Landsmeet so quickly and Anora was aware that Eamon would be trying to get Alistair a foreign bride like he attempted to do with Cailan so he wouldn't approve of the image that Cousland and Alistair was presenting—of a King and Queen.

So no, Eamon couldn't have done this, not when the nobles were questions his claims of Alistair being Maric's bastard just a week before and now they were accepting him as their king like Alistair had always been a Prince of Ferelden.

How? Who?

Anora found her answer when her gaze met the dark gaze of Kiara of the Companions and saw the slight smile curling at her lips.

Kiara of the Companions, leader of the famous mercenary group, Kiara who was fondly thought of by both Maric and Cailan.

Maric must have giving her something, something that proved that Alistair was his son, and Cailan probably claimed his brother as his heir and also gave something for her to protect and prove it.

It had been her that united the nobles, who had gotten the Chantry behind Alistair, and Anora knew it with cold certainty, the same certainty that told her that Father had left Cailan to die, that he had perhaps been planning it.

Her father had never taken to Cailan like he had to Maric and had never truly hidden his dislike.

It was only her pride that kept her moving forward, kept her arm linked with her beloved but doomed father.

Her father was going to die, Anora had realised, and she honestly didn't know if she was going to join him.

Anora hadn't done anything against the Wardens or the Companions, but she knew of Kiara and what type of woman she was. Kiara would be championing for Anora's death because the dark haired woman would see her as a threat to both Alistair and Cousland, but would Alistair dare start his rule with killing an 'innocent' woman?

No, Anora didn't think so. That meant she was safe, or as safe as she could be with Kiara of the Companions walking around Thedas.

* * *

_The look on Loghain's face when he was slapped in irons and his charges were read out for all to hear was something I would never forget. I had never liked the guy and had never once even considered saving him, I was bias against him before I even met the guy and I admit that, it doesn't make me a very good person and all that, but oh well, too late, his head has been taken off—oops._

_Still, I couldn't help but admire his ruthless protection of Ferelden—even if it almost destroyed Ferelden—and the loyalty he held to both Maric and Ferelden. _

_I had never felt such loyalty for a place, a country, a building, it just wasn't me. It was just a building, just a plot of land, in my eyes so why should I be loyal to it when it can be replaced?_

_People though, people you couldn't replace and it was people that I was loyal. People I loved had my whole loyalty, people I liked or respected as had some and the rest? None. _

_I was selfish, I was human, and I would never apologise for that. I wasn't a nice person, I wasn't a good person despite both Xavier and Charles saying differently—they may have been the same person in one way, but they were two different people in many others—and I was okay with that, that was who I am._

_I had always been selfish; I had always been kind of a bitch. Hydra and the Nazis just enhanced those personality traits or faults, whatever you want to call them. I had also been picky with my loyalty, but when I was loyal, well, it took a lot to break said loyalty._

_Hydra and the Nazis had taught me had to ruthlessly defend those I'm loyal to, to protect them and such. _

_Gods, I'm going to be a Hufflepuff in another life, aren't I? _

_Oh well, at least the kitchen will be near._

* * *

Alistair almost swore as he left Morrigan's room and was confronted with Kiara leaning casually across the hall, almost hidden in the shadows cast by the torches.

"We've kept guards and everyone away from here," she reported easily, like she didn't care that he had been fucking her lover almost all night. "No one outside of us will ever know of what happened tonight."

Sometimes, Kiara amazed him with how laidback she could be able things and then she made paste out of people with a dwarven warhammer.

"Thank you," Alistair said with deep relief.

It wasn't something he wanted others to know, he hadn't wanted to do it but if it meant it would save Andra, save their friends, and let them have a life after this? How could he refuse? How could he refuse just because he hated the idea of siring a bastard?

He hadn't wanted any child of his to grow up like he had and he had been lucky, but he knew that the child he had just sired would never be his. No, the child would be Morrigan's and Kiara's and Alistair was fine with that, happy with that, just hated that he had to cheat on Andra to save their lives.

"Andra would be looked down upon, laughed at by others if they knew," Kiara stated, rolling one shoulder to ease some of the tension that had built up. "I wouldn't put her through that."

"I know," Alistair replied, he knew it was more for Andra than it was for him and Alistair was fine with that.

"She's probably still up," Kiara added quietly. "Go and be the woman you love."

Alistair nodded and headed towards his and Andra's room in Redcliffe, only glancing back once to see Kiara slip into Morrigan's room.

* * *

Kiara had lived a hell of a long time, she was centuries old and had used the years well, it showed as she battled through Darkspawn, her two swords flashing in the weak light.

"Duck!" she snapped and Vala didn't hesitate which saved her head when Kiara lashed out and cut open the throat of the darkspawn that had been creeping up on the elven woman—this time Vala was staying close to Kiara where she could keep an eye on her.

The Wardens were deeper in Denerim, heading towards the High Demon and helping out where and when they could.

The Companions had joined the armies and were taking out as many Darkspawn as possible—each member covered completely in a way that stopped the darkspawn cursed blood from infecting them.

"I pissing hate Blights!" Malika's furious voice echoed above the battle-cries and screams of the hurt and dying.

War wasn't glorious, it wasn't kind, it was cruel and dirty and it haunted you, Kiara knew that. The screams of the dying, of your allies and enemies alike, echoed in your dreams though Kiara wouldn't be losing any sleep over the sound of darkspawn dying.

War wasn't something you enjoyed even if you were good at it and Kiara was very good at killing and fighting so she was very good with war. Ana had waged war in the shadows, through assassination and such, while Kiara was waging war out in the open, killing monsters and gathering allies.

Two very different types of war, two very different lives, Kiara almost wondered what type of war she'd face next.

"Logan!" that was Ellana's voice and Kiara spun just in time to see a darkspawn kick Logan's lifeless body.

"You bastards!" she hissed and lunged forwards, swords at the ready.

The fuckers dared to kill her dog? Fucking darkspawn was going to die.

* * *

"It doesn't make it better, does it?" Kiara's voice came behind him and he almost jumped, reaching for a sword he had finally been able to put down without fear and she smirked at his reaction—that same damn smirk of amusement that he hated—before it fell and she looked out at Denerim. "Loghain's dead, the Blight is over, the Archdemon dead and the Wardens lived to tell the heroic tale, and it doesn't make it better.

Duncan is still dead, Cailan is still dead, and Andra's family is mostly still dead. Denerim lies in a state of almost ruin, the bodies are stacked high to burn. The events at Redcliffe, Ostagar, the Circle, they are still being felt and yet people think it's all over."

"But it isn't, is it?" Alistair asked, "It's never going to be over for us."

Kiara came closer, looking out over Denerim and seeing the smoke still blowing through the air—some fire is still from the Final Battle though it had ended three days ago while the rest came from funeral pyres that had been hastily erected and filled.

"No, it's not," her voice was quiet, almost sad in a way that he hadn't truly heard from her before.

"I'm sorry," he coughed uncomfortably under Kiara's curious gaze. "You know, for blaming you for everything and the fact that Logan's dead and yeah."

Kiara laughed lightly, a sad smile on her face at the mention of Logan and a flash of grief in her eyes at the bluntly reference of his death which made Alistair wince—tact was something he still had to learn.

"The King of Ferelden should have a better way with his words, or is he going to leave talking to his Queen?" she teased him lightly and he shook his head in disbelief.

"Maker, I'm going to be King," he still wasn't used to the thought though Kiara had hammered it into his head months ago. "Let Andra do the talking, she knows how to deal with nobles."

"You learn," Kiara told him, sounding so confident that he wondered what he had done to earn such confidence from a woman like Kiara. "Andra will help you."

"How long are you sticking around?" Alistair asked. "I had thought Morrigan had wanted to be gone by now."

"She did," she smiled at the mention of her lover and Alistair idly wondered if he had the same loving smile on his face when talking about Andra. "But I had already promised Andra that we'd stay for the wedding and the coronation."

"I still can't believe she wants to marry me," he said in disbelief and Kiara smiled at him.

"You were the light she needed in her dark time, the strength she drew upon," she told him simply. "I'd been more surprised if she hadn't declared that before the Landsmeet Trial that she was going to marry you—Couslands fall hard and fast, they love fiercely and loyally and always declare it boldly."

"I think this is the longest conversation we've had," he mused after a while.

"Surprised it's so pleasant?" she teased him, nudging his shoulder with hers.

"Surprised we could have been friends from the start really," he told her and she shook her head in amusement.

"We're better friends for not liking each other from the start," she told him firmly. "We have seen each other in the worse light so there will be no unexpected surprises in the future."

"There's always surprises with you," he teased her and she laughed in agreement.

"Perhaps," she agreed wryly.

* * *

Following the end of the Blight and the massive funerals, Sereda was given the command of Vigil's Keep while Lendanis was given the command of Soldier's Peak and was entrusted to keep an eye on the Ancient Warden as well as find a way to combat the taint.

Melima became the head of the newly created Queen's Guard and was in charge of protecting Andra and the future heirs of Ferelden while Leona became the Court Mage—a first in pure Ferelden history—and was currently working on Morrigan's rituals and fertility potions for Andra.

Faren escorted Sten across Ferelden and towards a ship that would take him Rivaini and closer to the Qun while a garrison of men was deployed towards Orzammar by Alistair.

Alistair and Andra was busy working with the other nobles in making the plans needed to recover from the Blight while Fergus—having stumbled into Denerim just a day after the battle—was under the hawk eye of Ellana.

Malika was busy introducing Shale to all the Cadash dwarves that had come to help out and Kiara had finally been told about her adoption into the House which made it easier for a gleeful Alistair to knight the unimpressed Ser Kiara Cadash for her help in the Blight and against threats to Ferelden.

Said new knight was sending missives to agents in Gwaren for them to keep a discreet eye on Anora and her ruling while Alistair gave Anora a more obvious guard and keeper.

Oghern had been given a commanding post in the Royal Army to the delight of Felsi who had come to Denerim to inform the dwarf that he was going to be a father—apparently they had a more private catch-up when the rest of them had been sleeping.

Wynne had been put in charge of the building of a new Circle Tower in Denerim where mages would have more freedom—First Enchanter Irving was helping her with his new assistant, Connor.

Elion and Zevran were off, ferreting out spies and such while making the legend of the Dark Wolf grow with the blessing of Vala—the true Dark Wolf—while she was off with Lelianna back to Haven and the Urn with a collection of Templars and Chantry people to claim it in the name of the Chantry and class it as a Holy Site.

Saya had decided it was prudent to shadow Morrigan since she was pregnant with hers and Kiara's child—to the dark haired mage's annoyance—and Morrigan was grudgingly helping sort out the Circle's tomes—getting some select ones copied for herself—for the new Library and the original Circle Library which meant she was in command of dozens of scribes to copy the books.

Arl Eamon become the Arl of Denerim while Teagan was given the Arling of Redcliffe after appointing someone to govern his old lands. The Dalish was given the lands of Ostagar and its surround, Alistair and Andra both appointed men to help clear the land of the various rotting bodies.

Shianni was raised as Bann of the Alienage to the pride and fear of her cousin and the rest of her family with Kiara spreading the word that the new Bann was under the protection of the Companions and Andra appointed a guard just in case someone took offense to an elf being raised to such a title.

One month after the Blight, Kiara stole Morrigan away for the day and came back with the announcement that the two women were now married while Alistair and Andra married three months after the Blight to the delight of Ferelden's people.


	45. Chapter 45

The Stone must have really liked Trian, Sereda decided, for her luck to take such a—what was the term that Faren used? Ah, yes—shitty turn.

The Blight was over so the darkspawn was meant to be gone, crawling back down to the Deeproads, but no, they had decided to stick around for some reason and were attacking_ her_ Keep, _her_ people and_ her_ Wardens.

Sereda wasn't a happy dwarf, she bet Lendanis didn't have to deal with this nugshit at the Peak—some people had all the luck, Dani only had to deal with two Blood mages while Sereda had to deal with Darkspawn who didn't realise they weren't meant to be here.

"Mhari," she snapped to the Warden recruit. "Keep close to me."

If it wasn't enough that Darkspawn were attacking, she also had to keep an eye on a new recruit.

No, Sereda really wasn't a happy dwarf.

She better still have recruits after this.

* * *

Templars, Anders acknowledged, were bastards but they could fight—mages that is, darkspawn? Not so much as seen by the bodies falling around him.

Anders cursed as he blasted a darkspawn in the face with fire.

Well this was turning out to be a more adventurous trip back to the Circle then Anders had been expecting when the Templars finally caught up to him—a Blight was a surprisingly good time to run and hide, Anders found.

For just over a year, Anders had been free from the Circle—just in time too, he heard what happened at the Circle and he was glad to miss that cluster-fuck, knowing his luck he'd end up being blamed as part of the secret Blood-mage group that had been going on under both Irving's and the Templar's nose for years.

Sure, he had to deal with darkspawn every now and again, but that was okay—not perfect but life never was.

And of course when the darkspawn were dead and extra crispy, whoever had been killing off the darkspawn outside decided to enter the room he was in, surrounded by dead Templars and darkspawn.

"Err," he glanced between the human knight and the dwarf Warden. "I didn't do it?"

Sapphire eyes stared at him before glancing at the burnt bodies of darkspawn.

"What's your name?" the dwarf asked, cutting off the human before she could make her opinion known.

"Anders?" he asked more than stated and the dwarf nodded sharply.

"Well, Anders, I'm recruiting you into the Wardens," the dwarf stated firmly. "Follow me."

"Wait, what?"

* * *

Talking darkspawn, that's just what Sereda needed on top of her Wardens being killed or taken leaving her with only recruits, the guards and soldiers belonging to the Keep had been cut down by almost a quarter in the attack, part of her Keep had been blown up by some crazy dwarf, one of her new recruits was Oghern and Alistair decided now was the perfect time to drop in with a Templar that wanted her new mage recruit dead.

Sometimes Sereda almost wished she could be more like Faren or Malika and tell the Templar to fuck off, instead she just reminded the Templar that she had the right to conscript and had recruited him into the Grey Wardens.

"How's Andra?" Sereda asked as they walked away from Alistair's guards and that seething Templar.

Alistair's face went sappy at once at the sound of his wife's name.

"She's glowing," he gushed. "Leona thinks there is a possibility of her carrying twins."

Twins were a miracle when it was apparently considered impossible for two Grey Wardens to have a child.

"Congratulations," Sereda smiled at her friend and King's joy.

"Thank you," he smiled before turning serious. "Now report."

Sereda sighed.

"It's bad," she admitted.

"Bad, bad-bad or Blight-bad?" Alistair asked and Sereda hesitated for a bit.

"It could be bad-bad," Sereda hesitated. "The darkspawn talked."

"Talked?" Alistair almost gaped. "As in actually talked or just sort of groaned in a way that sounded like words?"

"Actually talked," Sereda scowled up at him.

"Well, shit," Alistair stated and Sereda silently agreed with him, it was a well shit moment. "The Wardens from Orlais?"

"Dead or taken," she reported grimly. "I've only got recruits and the soldiers left, might be enough for what's happening now, but I'd rather be over-prepared then under."

"I can send a message to Lendanis if you want?" Alistair offered and Sereda nodded.

"Having both her and Jowan here would be good to have around,"

Having three senior Wardens around was better than just one—even if Sereda had been given the title of Warden Commander—when it came to having a force made up of new recruits. Alistair had it hard enough being the man with the answers during the Blight while this wasn't a Blight—by the Paragon, it better not be—there was still bad things happening and the recruits would need to be informed of Warden-related things instead of winging it like they had mostly done.

"It'll take a while for them to get here," Alistair warned and Sereda nodded, she already knew that.

"I can hold down the fort until then," she assured him and Alistair nodded.

* * *

Damn, Sereda cursed as she watched Mhari fall, blood seeping from her nose and mouth.

She had liked Mhari, she had been strong and capable but that meant nothing in the Joining—the taint either took to the blood or it killed you.

"Burn her with the other bodies," she ordered, she had enough of the walking undead during the Blight.

Whatever was happening was bad enough without the living dead on top of it.

She still had Oghern and Anders and that was something until Dani and Jowan got here.

* * *

Nathaniel Howe was in denial and wouldn't accept the truth from anyone but his family, his family that consisted of a dead traitor of a father, a dead mother, a dead younger brother and a sister living somewhere it in the city.

Still, she needed all the hands she could get and making him Grey Warden would put him directly under her command.

So she would attempt to get him to accept the truth and if he wouldn't accept that then she guessed they were taking a trip to the city together—she'd probably have to go there anyway.

* * *

Lendanis glanced down at the letter once more in disbelief.

"Avernus?" she called out and the older mage have a distracted hum of acknowledge. "Have you ever heard of a talking darkspawn?"

His bald and wrinkled head snapped up making Jowan wince at the loud snap it made—it probably wasn't healthy for bones to snap that loudly at his age.

"A talking darkspawn?" his hazy eyes brightened. "They've never shown enough intelligence to speak before, I wonder what've changed? Do we have the specimen?"

"No," Dani answered as she glanced over the letter once more. "But I can see what I can find about them."

"You're leaving?" two different voice asked.

"Jowan and myself have been called to the Vigil," Dani told them. "It seems Anders has become a Grey Warden as well."

"Anders?" Jowan asked in disbelief. "Poor Sereda."

"She'll probably end up dumping him on us," Dani told him and Jowan groaned.

Jowan had never been fond of Anders when they were all in the Circle, Dani wasn't that found of him that much either—Anders got the whole Circle banned from walking outside when he attempted to swim across the lake and escape during daily exercise. He was one of the reasons that her hair had been so pale when she first became a Warden.

* * *

Sigrun was a cheerful bundle of dwarf and morbid humour, Sereda decided. Sigrun was also someone Sereda was certain she would need. She had been a member of the Legion of the Dead, that gave her experience that was greater than Oghern's, definitely greater than Nathaniel and Anders, and on-par or greater than Sereda's own.

So Sereda decided to recruit her, for her skills and listening to her fend off Oghern was amusing—though Sereda wondered what happened with him and Felsi, especially considering their child should have been born by now.

Sereda had to make choices, choices that were hard to make and would be hard to live with perhaps. Like letting Velanna become a Grey Warden and not face justice for her crimes, if she was Faren, perhaps Sereda would have understood Velanna's actions, but she didn't.

Her relationship with her brothers were very different to the relationship both Faren and Velanna had with their sisters.

But Sereda had earned the title of commander once and she knew an asset when she saw it, so she recruited Velanna, made her a Warden, even became friendly with her just because Sereda knew she could need the Dalish mage.

It was cold, but it was true.

Justice was another addition that was logic base. The body he was in was a Warden, would have been under her command, and Sereda didn't see why she couldn't have him under her command now that Justice had gotten stuck in it.

A Warden used everything to end a Blight and fight Darkspawn, Sereda firmly believed in those words. It had been easier to get Justice to join them—in the name of bringing justice to Kristoff—than it had been Sigrun, funnily enough, and Sereda didn't regret her choice.

Until she saw the face of Kristoff's wife as she stared at her husband's body wondering around. It was then that Sereda felt remorse but refused to show it.

A normal civil war was bad enough, having a civil war between Darkspawn was much worse.

* * *

"You know, I believed I wanted to leave months ago," Morrigan commented almost idly, it did nothing to mask the annoyance in her tone though.

"You're too far along for us to travel safely," Kiara reminded her as she stroked Morrigan's large belly. "You don't want to harm our baby, do you?"

Morrigan made an annoyed sound but didn't move from where she was leaning back against Kiara's chest.

"Besides, this way you can keep an eye on Andra's on pregnancy," Kiara commented. "I know you wanted to know how it would go and this way you get to see it first-hand."

Kiara smiled into her dark hair when Morrigan huffed and just relaxed further into Kiara as she continued to rub circles on Morrigan's belly.

* * *

"I'm going to protect you," Kiara promised her new born son as she held him close, Morrigan recovering in their bed.

Kieran Cadash had been born safe in Denerim and in the Royal Castle of the King and Queen, safe from the Darkspawn Civil War that Sereda and her Wardens were fighting.

The closest to becoming a mother Kiara had ever been before was with Kurt, but she had only been a godmother to him. There had been Alex before Kurt, but Alex was almost fully grown when she stepped into his life.

This was different, this was her son, her son with her eyes, the son of the woman she loved deeply. A son she would help raise beside Morrigan, help guide and protect, a son she'd always love because he was _her_ son and he was _her_ first.

She already hated the fact that she'd be risking him by taking him to Kirkwall, but she had already promised the others that they would be going back to Kirkwall and Kiara didn't break her promises easily.

Kirkwall and all its mess was easier to deal with then a Blight, in Kiara's opinion, and there was enough of them to always protect Kieran.

And he would be protected, Kiara swore this.

He was her son and she'd protect him with her life.

Still she had a couple more months before the others began to push to go back to Kirkwall, a couple of months were plenty of time to prepare the safety of her son.

* * *

Morrigan had never believed in the Maker, did not believe he chose Andraste as both bride and Prophet.

Andraste was either a mentally-ill girl who actually believed in her visions or a rather cunning woman who realised she could capture the minds of desperate mean and women with honeyed words of a new religion.

Still, Morrigan had some respect for the woman that changed the course of history and was still so worshipped a thousand years after her death even if she didn't like or respect or approve of what was done in her name.

Andrastian drivel was something that Morrigan disliked listening to though she bet she'd have to deal with it considering Vala's budding romance with Lelianna—and Morrigan thought Alistair had the sappiest look of puppy-love, she was proven wrong when she witnessed the sickening sweet display between Vala and Lelianna.

If she had a choice, Morrigan wouldn't listen to any Andrastian nonsense, but this time she'd make an acceptation.

"I can't believe they didn't make you wear a dress," Malika groused to Kiara, pulling at the neck of her gown uncomfortably though Kiara seemed to be ignoring her as she absently bounced Kieran and watched the proceeding in front of her.

Kiara had escaped from wearing a dress like the other women and was instead wearing smart trousers and tunic combo that made Malika very jealous.

"In the Dalish culture, we'd just plant a tree and be done with it," Elion was slightly complaining. "None of this."

"Don't you Dalish plant trees for everything?" Faren asked with a smirk and Elion glared lightly at him.

"Only for blessing the birth, weddings and funerals," Ellana piped up almost drily.

"Only then?" Faren asked in mock disbelief.

"Sadly," Elion decided to join in to Zevran's amusement. "I always thought we'd could come up with more things to celebrate with tree-planting."

"Why is this such a big deal anyway?" Malika grumbled.

"It's politics," Kiara answered easily. "Calian and Anora never secured their rule, not properly, as they sired no children. The fact that Andra and Alistair has sired a royal heir is big, add to the fact that they also have a Princess to go with their Prince? There's no way anyone would stand with Anora against them now, they have secured their rule. It's expected they should show off in such a public way.

There is also politics surrounding the godparents. Fergus isn't only Andra's brother, but also the Teynir of Highever—the only respectable and respected Teynir in Ferelden—so it's expected that he should be given the godfather role of Prince Duncan," Kiara continued and ignored the grimace of Morrigan at the name of Alistair and Andra's son, "normally his wife or another female Teynir would be a godmother, but since Fergus is a widower and Anora is, well, Anora, it should be an Arlessa to take the role of godmother instead they chose to use the new Queen of Orzammar as the godmother of their son—that shows they want stronger ties between Ferelden and Orzammar.

For Eleanor, they should use Arls or Alessas so Arl Teagan is a good choice which should be paired with another Arlessa, the fact that they chose a Bann would be surprising in itself, but the fact they chose the first elven Bann?" she paused as she looked up at where Shianni was standing, proud and serious, dressed in silks. "It shows that the Royal family holds the new Bann in high regard which will stop any rumblings against her."

"Good," Vala did nothing to hide her relief—the red-headed elf had been worried after Alistair had raised Shianni up to being a Bann, she knew her cousin and she worried how the humans would take such an out-spoken elf in their midst.

Knowing that Andra—because it was a subtle move that screamed of Andra—had taken steps to protect and shield Shianni was relieving.

Kiara had been slightly worried as she remembered the fate of Shianni as a Bann, with the Companions claim on her and Andra's move of making Shianni the godmother of Princess Eleanor would protect her from that fate—one less thing to worry about.

Kiara almost winced when Kieran finally grabbed a fistful of her dark hair and tugged sharply, perhaps she should look into getting a hair-cut at least until he stopped the hair-grabbing thing.


	46. Chapter 46

The Hawkes made some interesting friends, Varric thought to himself as they sat in the Hanged Man for the last night of ale in relative safety as tomorrow they'd be entering the Deeproads.

Daisy had been the first stray they picked up, a Dalish First that had been asked to leave because of her blood-magic. Now Varric was born and raised in Kirkwall and they were used to the odd blood-mage turning up now and again, but Varric couldn't place them and Daisy on the same level.

Yes, she did blood-magic, yes she terrified her own Clan, but she was so innocent and naïve and kind and always ended up somewhere strange in the city, lost but still happy, and it hurt something in his chest when they took her to the Alienage where she would have to live from now on.

Varric hired some men to keep watch over Daisy and knew Marian had spent a full week stalking outside Daisy's house to keep away thugs and such and get the message through thick heads that Daisy was under Marian 'Blade' Hawke's personal protection—which meant a lot considering she had only been living in Kirkwall for little over a year—and actually glared when Junior attempted to flirt with the oblivious elf.

Andraste's ass, even Garrett was fond of the little elf and kept her close to his side, much like he did with Sunshine, when they went off on another adventure/job.

Blondie was depressing and freaky really, he willingly allowed himself to be possessed and that would always make Varric wary of him. He also was so obviously falling for Marian that it was almost sickening, Varric hoped for her own sake that she didn't fall for him too—Blondie would end up breaking her heart and Varric knew it, Garrett knew it too considering how he would glare at Blondie whenever he attempted to flirt with Marian.

Rivaini was Varric's type of person; funny, free and crude. For a land-locked pirate, she had a soft side shown in the way she basically adopted Daisy and called her kitten instead.

She could bend the truth like Varric, but Varric spun stories and Rivaini just flat-out lied or omit details. She was proud of her looks, knew how to use them and was used to it.

She also kind of scared Varric with the dislike she immediately built between her and Aveline—that woman still scared the shit out of him and that fact that Rivaini actually seemed to enjoy taunting her? No, Varric was keeping away from that and let one of the Hawkes could play peace-keeper.

Broody was alright, had a bit too much hatred for mages but who could blame the guy? He was a run-away-slave of a mage with magical lyrium tattoos that meant he could do stuff.

Varric was secretly glad that Kiara would probably never go to Tevinter and would never get one of those mages to agree to do those tattoos for her—she was scary enough as she was, in Varric's humble opinion.

Choir-Boy, huh, Varric didn't know what to think of him and he didn't truly understand why he joined them as he seemed to have little in common with any of them, but who was he to judge?

* * *

Well, shit.

Varric had always known things would be interesting around the Hawkes—Kiara's interest in them was only one point to favour that opinion—but he hadn't realised how interesting until now.

Sunshine had joined the Circle, had gone willingly when her siblings had been away in the Deeproads where Junior became tainted and only Blondie knew a way to save him—crazy and on the run, he maybe, Blondie was still a Warden and still had connections even if he denied them.

Varric wondered if he should have nicknamed Garrett Broody instead of Turtle, but he didn't have brooding down to an art like the elf did—also the look on his face when Varric called him Turtle was hilarious, the fact that Marian had snorted ale out of her nose at her twin's expression had made it priceless.

Normally Varric would be attempting to cheer up his brooding Turtle, but he was still smarting over the fact that his own brother—bastard he maybe, but he was still his brother—had abandoned him in the Deeproads all for some stupid idol.

"She finally showed you what a bitch she was, huh?" the voice was startling familiar and he turned to greet her with a grin like it hadn't been over a decade since they saw each other.

"Malika! What—who is this?" Varric could feel his grin slip as he met the dark eyes of the male dwarf attached to Malika's hand like he was meant to be with her, all stupidly bright red hair and easy confidence despite that lovely Brand on his face that showed he had been born in Orzammar.

She's replaced me, Varric thought stupidly for a moment before he realised they had never been a thing, not with Bianca around, and it had been over a decade since they had seen each other. So why did he feel like a forgotten and replaced lover?

"This is Faren," she introduced with a smile he had never seen before on her face, steel eyes soft and loving, and the Casteless was grinning back, happy and soft and, Maker, he had never looked like that towards Bianca and she had never looked back at him like that even before she married someone else—that told him everything he needed about his doomed romance with Bianca. "Faren this is Varric."

"Hey," Varric offered lamely and Faren grinned and nodded back in greeting before Varric looked back to Malika. "You're all back then?"

"Yes, well, I promised," that was Kiara's voice making Varric turn towards her as she came towards them.

"Dear Maker you've reproduced," he blurted out instead of greeting her like he planned and Malika and Faren both laughed as Kiara looked down at him, holding a baby with her dark hair and her dark eyes like it was a normal thing for her to do.

"The horror in your voice is both hurtful and flattering," Kiara responded drily as a small chubby fist wrapped itself around her long dark hair.

"And completely understandable," an amused female voice drifted over before a striking woman appeared by Kiara's side, leaning into her as she brushed a loving hand on the dark hair of the baby.

Varric almost did a double-take as he realised some of the unfamiliar features of Kiara's child matched this unnamed woman. He almost wanted to ask, but frankly, he could live without knowing.

It was already terrifying enough to know that Kiara had reproduced, the fact she seemed to have done the impossible and reproduced with another woman would go without asking—it was safer for everyone that way, Varric firmly decided.

Kiara was smiling at him like she knew what he was thinking and was pleased, her ability to read people was unnerving enough when it wasn't used on him, Varric remembered with an aborted shudder.

"Your terror of her hasn't waned one bit, has it?" Elion appeared with an amused snort and another blonde elf attached to his side—an elf that wasn't his sister and was actually male.

"Zevran!" Rivaini called out in what was almost delight as she stood and the elf, Zevran, removed himself with some reluctance from Elion, and easily moved to hug the pirate with a grace that almost reminded Varric of Kiara.

So, a spy or assassin from Isabella's pirating days, Varric decided, who had somehow joined up with the Companions and seemed to be fucking Elion—so someone actually wanted to be in a relationship with the vengeful little bastard, huh? —Varric would put his money more on assassin than spy.

"Isabella," Zevran greeted cheerfully, voice quite heavy with an Antivan accent. "As beautiful as ever, I see. I didn't expect to see you here."

"Ah well," Isabella grimaced slightly. "I may have been shipwrecked."

"No," Zevran gasped dramatically. "The famed Pirate Queen of Antiva shipwrecked?"

Isabella laughed, flattered yet displeased—flattered by the over-the-top title he gifted her, displeased at the reminder that she had sunk her beloved ship.

Varric would always privately wonder if Isabella would have freed the slaves if she knew it would end with her ship at the bottom of the Waking Sea and Isabella stuck in Kirkwall? It wouldn't be something he asked though, especially not in front of Daisy.

* * *

It was the dark haired woman with dark eyes that Anders recognised, Kiara of the Companions was famous as well as infamous in Thedas especially in Ferelden.

He had never met Kiara of the Companions though on a few of his escapes he had caught sight of her or her Companions and heard more tales about them. He heard more about them during the Blight.

Kiara and her Companions had been beside the Wardens since the Slaughter of Ostagar, had aided them loyally through the Blight and it was believed that it was Kiara that placed King Alistair and his Queen Andra on the throne.

It may have been Arl Eamon's plan, but Kiara made it happen and that was what counted in most people's minds.

So Anders had a good idea just how dangerous Kiara could be, Justice knew how dangerous Kiara could be from Ander's memories and rumours from the Fade.

What she did in at the Circle was told and spread throughout the Fade, there wasn't a demon or spirit who didn't know just who she was.

Anders would be keeping his distance from her, especially considering the ideas that Justice was thinking up and Anders found himself agreeing with a bit more each day.

* * *

Marian Hawke wasn't the oldest of the Hawke siblings—that was Garrett—she wasn't the favourite—that was Carver though Mother would never admit it—and she wasn't the youngest—that was Bethany.

She didn't have Father's magic and was thus not as important as Garrett and later Bethany was, she was a girl so she shouldn't learn to fight and play with the boys and act more a man than a lady according to her mother—who disapproved when Marian first took an interest in fighting, who argued fiercely with Father when he allowed it, and was so proud when Carver could class himself a warrior but was almost ashamed that Marian could fight better than him.

Garrett may like to paint himself as the sole protector of the family—not to say he hadn't protected their family, because he had, it was just Garrett was still a mage and thus couldn't act as freely as Marian could without risk—but it had been Marian who had gone out into villages and such to listen for Templar news, it had been Marian who had learnt to smile and lie and understand people and Templars and fear, it had been Marian that would point any curious Templars—that were getting too close them, suspected them because even if you don't carry around a staff you're still a mage and they can tell damn it! Why did Bethany have to go to the Chantry so much? —towards the Wilds where she knew some Chasind apostates made a game of killing them.

It had been her that had put the most money in the purses and food on the table—Garrett would hunt down herbs and such while Bethany would turn them into potions that they would sometimes sell and other times they act as the villages herbalist healers, Mother mended people's clothes as sewing was one of the few skills a noble's daughter was allowed, Carver spent more time chasing around his latest skirt to add much silver to the pot which left Marian, Marian who became a hunter, who became woman you went to for leather or fur or a problem beast on your land, it was Marian who joined the meagre guard of Lothering, who did as many odd jobs for the Chantry as she could so her family never went hungry—something she doubted her mother would have coped with, growing up without any need to worry about food as it was always there.

Marian hadn't complained, tried not to be more than slightly bitter about her lot in life, and got on with it. She was good at that, just getting on with things and life, especially when it came to her family and to Marian? Everything was about and for her family.

Then rumours of a Blight were spread and Carver—her little brother, her only little brother—was swept up in the King's tales of battle and glory, about being heroes of both Ferelden and Thedas, and joined up with the army without a second thought.

Suddenly the fact that Marian could fight wasn't a point of such shame it was not meant to be talked about and Mother ordered, begged, Marian to go with Carver and keep him safe—something Marian was going to do anyway and part of her was hurt that her own mother thought she was going to let Carver run off and fight a Blight on his own.

And Marian had gone with Carver, right to Ostagar and the beginning of the Blight, she had fought against Darkspawn beside him as more and more Darkspawn came and more and more people came to fight them.

She remembered that the Companions were amongst those who answered the call, the Companions whoever had some respect for despite the fact that only one of the core and founding members was a human which was rare.

She had gotten used to Malika Cadash's outbursts, she had gotten used to seeing the hornless Qunari that was Saya and had spotted Ellana a number of times as she collected Elfroot and such for potions and pastes and more.

And then Kiara, their leader, arrived at Ostagar with the archer Elion and a new elf called Vala and soon came the last battle that turned into a slaughter.

They—Marian and Carver—had been fighting together when the horns of retreat sounded and they realised that Teynir Loghain wasn't going to help them, that they could die, when Kiara was suddenly there, sword burning and cutting through the darkspawn like they were nothing with a Warden dwarf thrown over one shoulder with another Warden dwarf—Faren, she now knows—and Elion just behind.

Dark eyes had stared at them from under the helm she wore for a moment before she snarled, beheading a darkspawn that came towards them with savage ease before she turned back to them.

"Retreat you fucking idiots," she had barked before doing as she had ordered them, killing any darkspawn in her path and helping those still fighting with her companions behind her and following her lead.

Marian hadn't needed to be told twice and grabbed Carver and shoved him towards where Kiara and her lot were steadily making their way through the crowd, one of her blades swiping across the throat of a darkspawn and yelling at him to move.

Marian thought that was the last time she would see Kiara and her Companions.

She was wrong, she now knew.

It had been on the ship to Kirkwall when Garrett told her about the woman that had given him the warning that had saved them when an ogre came charging out of nowhere and had carelessly giving them a pouch of gold.

That was the second time Kiara had saved her family.

Now since she had turned up with her Companions—with a new hound replacing the old one, a Chasind mage bride and a baby, a Warden dwarf, an assassin elf and a hulking golem—her companions and sometimes her turned up whenever Marian and the others took a job and helped out whenever needed or just watched over them and Marian didn't know why.

But she would find out.

* * *

**AN: Hope you like this chapter, I'll admit that I'm struggling with DA2 so I won't be spending so much time on it.  
**

**I also wanted to know if anyone wanted to be my sounding board for my rewrite for A Magical Life fic that I will be writing after I finish this.**


	47. Chapter 47

Kiara wasn't going to directly involve herself and her family in with the Inquisition, she'd help in her own way but she wouldn't throw her lot in like she had with the Wardens.

She could have lost some of her family, she had lost Logan, and now she had Morrigan and Kieran and she wouldn't risk them, couldn't risk them, and that meant she would stay away from the Inquisition as much as possible.

But she could start gathering supplies, readying the outer circles of Companions and hoard secrets and such while her inner circle made sure the Hawke twins were alright and such and she spent time with Kieran, her son.

That was still an odd thought, but a warming welcoming thought too.

Though unfortunately most of her time seemed to be filled with paperwork.

"Kieran," she began seriously and the little tot looked up at her with familiar brown eyes. "If you ever decide to become a leader of anything, either get someone to do the paperwork for you or have several good sparring partners like your mum."

"Sage advice," Marian Hawke commented as she entered the room—Kiara and her Companions had been given a house by the Viscount in 'recognition of past service' though it was probably because the nobles couldn't stand the thought of a knight and hero of Ferelden living in a tavern.

"I was wondering when you'd finally decide to show yourself," Kiara mused, not surprised by Marian appearance.

"You knew I was here?" It was as much a question as a statement and Kiara nodded simply, Marian almost looked like she wanted to ask how but had obviously been listening to Varric and how terrifying Kiara was because she didn't. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"I can guess," she answered, and Kiara could guess a number of reasons why Marian Hawke had come to visit her—especially since the younger woman was alone. "But I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway."

"Your people— "("Family," Kiara corrected lightly,) "—family are following us, no matter where we are, one of them is always around," Marian was glaring, dark blue eyes blazing—eyes that she shared with her little brother, mother, uncle and cousin, eyes that marked her as an Amell.

Kiara leaned back in her chair, holding Kieran comfortably on her lap as he chewed on the ear of his stuffed wolf.

It was this woman, this Hawke, that Kiara honestly believed would become the Champion of Kirkwall.

Garrett was hindered by his magic, his continued freedom was mostly bought by his youngest sister's sacrifice and by the fact he didn't draw attention to himself—not like Anders did. Meredith would never allow a mage be a Champion of Kirkwall.

Garrett would also know that if he used magic in front of people that his sister could and most likely would pay the price. Garrett wouldn't risk Bethany like that, couldn't risk her like that and Kiara understood.

Marian wasn't hindered by magic; Marian's skills wouldn't bring Templars down upon them so it would be Marian who would face the Qunari in a public view and be named Champion—that meant Kiara had an interest in keeping Marian alive thus why her Companions were following her.

"Have you ever thought it could be a coincidence?" Kiara asked, running her fingers Kieran's soft hair making his little face scrunch up in annoyance—it made him look more like Morrigan, Kiara thought fondly, but the way the hair stuck up was the little bit of Alistair in him.

"Once or twice is a coincidence," Marian declared firmly. "Almost all the time? That's an enemy action."

And here, Kiara thought Garrett was the only suspicious one in the family—obviously she was wrong.

"Enemy action?" she decided to question. "Varric is a dear friend, we do our best not to become enemies with our dear friends' friends. Have you thought that perhaps we're watching over Varric?"

"You haven't seen him in over a decade," Marian countered and Kiara raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is that meant to mean our friendship has lessened?" Kiara asked. "Perhaps we are worried for him, it would be reasonable considering the company he keeps and friends he has made."

Marian scowled for a moment, looking a lot like her brother in that moment.

"And what is that meant to mean?" the younger rogue demanded.

"He has surrounded himself with three apostate mages, one a blood-mage, one possessed by a spirit that's turning into a demon and only one that has enough sense to keep his magic on the down-low.

He has also surrounded himself by a land-locked pirate—a pirate that is known for hiding secrets and causing people to chase her—and a run-away slave that has some weird-ass lyrium tattoos that are most likely rare if totally unique.

Let's not forget the Preacher Prince that will one day retake his throne, no matter what he says now, he'll do it because it is his blood-rite and nobles are all about blood-rites enough if they joined the Chantry.

And then there is you, a Ferelden refugee that is quickly making a name for herself. Why shouldn't I be concerned?" Kiara stared at the younger woman with her eyebrow still raised.

"Anders' isn't becoming a demon!" Marian protested, not being able to deny the other points that Kiara had made.

"Spirits," Kiara began, "are rather simple creatures, they focus and embody one thing and that's what keeps them pure and untainted—most of the time. It's us mortals that taint them, with our thoughts, our biases, and our emotions—allowing a spirit possess you, no matter what type of spirit they once embodied, will turn and change because of the person's emotions, thoughts and such tainting them."

Marian opened her mouth to argue, but found she couldn't. She didn't know much about demons and spirits, she wasn't a mage like Garrett and Bethany and thus didn't need to attend such lessons with their father.

Marian could attempt to argue, but she knew she couldn't, not when she had so little facts when it came to spirits and demons. Marian maybe stubborn, but she wasn't stupid.

And she remembered, she remembered Anders turning into Justice—blue light shining through his skin, eyes burning with a rage that left some part of her cold when she saw it.

Justice may not be kind, it maybe just be Just like Anders had stated, but Anders walked a fine line between Justice and Vengeance and deep inside Marian knew one day he'd fall and become the thing that Anders denied he was and what both Fenris and Sebastian accused him of being.

Marian thought of her brother, of Garrett and his cold politeness when he speaks to Anders, the hint of distrust that lined his face when he watched Anders, and realised that Garrett probably felt the same, thought the same, as Kiara did.

He hadn't told her, hadn't said one thing, Marian realised, and part of her was hurt that her brother, her twin, obviously didn't trust her enough to tell her. Why? She wanted to ask, but that would have to wait for later, when she was home and Mother was in her room.

Now she was dealing with Kiara and the fact she was having her people—family, whatever—following and watching them.

"Perhaps its reasonable, but I don't think it's the real reason," Marian argued and Kiara smiled, a slow smile.

"But it is the reason I'm giving you," Kiara decided simply. "Now go, I still have to catch up on paperwork that built up during the Blight."

Marian gritted her teeth at the dismissal, but left.

* * *

Marian jerked back as an axe went flying passed her and right into the face of an approaching Qunari.

"This," Malika began as she walked towards her victim and axe, ignoring Hawke's group and the few Wardens, "is why people hate Qunari, can't leave people alone to live their lives."

"Yes, because no one else does that," Kiara came striding after Malika, Saya stalking behind her with her staff ready. "Varric, Varric's friends, Wardens."

"Of course you're in the midst of it all," Varric muttered and Malika grinned.

"Why wouldn't we be?" Malika asked. "Gives us an excuse to kill the fuckers that have been muttering about collaring Saya."

"Ellana, Vala and Morrigan are keeping the Hanged Man safe, send people there," Kiara told them. "Wardens, you best leave unless you want to end up like the Ferelden Wardens."

"What's wrong with the Ferelden Wardens?" Marian stepped forward.

Carver had gone home to Ferelden, to be a Warden in their homeland and wear Anders friends were—Anders had demanded that of Stroud, had pointed out that Carver was Fereldan and should go home.

"They've broken from the rest of the Wardens," Stroud answered. "They broke the Warden tradition and involved themselves in politics."

"And saved the world from the Blight as they did," Kiara pointed out. "Now Ferelden Wardens govern themselves, separate from the other Wardens."

Carver was safe, Marian thought with relief. He was safe in their homeland and that's all that mattered to Marian.

Now she had to make sure everyone else was safe too.

* * *

Marian Hawke was named Champion by Meredith after defeating the Arishok, lives were both lost and saved, and Kiara wanted to leave Kirkwall.

Kieran was only a toddler, would be six when Anders sparked the rebellion, and Kiara didn't want him anywhere near the shit-storm that was coming.

Lelianna had invited Vala to her side, to Orlais, and Vala wanted to be with her lover though she didn't want to part from them.

Orlais was their future, it was decided after days of debate.

* * *

"Varric," Kiara bent to hug him and Varric hugged her back, like he did when the Companions first left Kirkwall. "Be careful," she whispered into his ear. "Things are brewing still, beware Anders and keep close to your Blade."

Varric didn't answer as she pulled back and they simply smiled at each other.

It didn't mean Varric would ignore Kiara's warning, he knew better than that, but he wouldn't be letting the others know.

So he smiled, he hugged his friends and waved goodbye as Kiara herded her family away from the shit-storm she knew was coming, something she knew he wouldn't do. Kirkwall was his home and he wouldn't abandon it.

So Blondie was going to end up doing something that made Kiara take her family away from Kirkwall. Something she'd rather run from then fight, something she was leaving in the hands of Blade and the rest.

Shit.

* * *

"Vala, my love," Lelianna cooed as she hugged her elven love before she moved and gushed over Kieran. "Look how much you've grown."

She easily took Kieran from Morrigan's arms and held him tightly, pressing kisses to Kieran's face and making him giggle in delight as pudgy hands tangled in red hair.

"Please do not smother my son," Morrigan sighed as she glanced around their new place.

Grandly built as much of Orlais' capital city which made the Companions' collections of tomes, animal skins and furs and weapons look out of place—not that Kiara would care one bit.

Ellana would be pleased, she'd finally be able to grow her own herbs, Morrigan thought as Shale entered carrying another trunk of stuff—Morrigan hadn't known they had picked so much up until they were packing to leave Kirkwall—and caught Lelianna wince at the hair-line cracks that appeared in the tiles under Shale's feet.

Vala had a small smile as she gently rubbed Lelianna's back, it was almost sickening to see how sweet they were with each other.

* * *

**AN: Short, yes, but I really want to get on to Inquisition and I'm sure I'm not alone in my dislike of DA2. So yeah, here's this really short chapter that I struggled to write and still hope you enjoy?**


	48. Chapter 48

The thing with games is there is only one hero, one person whose life changes and who fights to right the world and all that, but this wasn't a game, this was real life and that made all the difference.

There would only be one Herald of Andraste, one Inquisitor, but what would happen at the Conclave? That would change more lives than that single Inquisitor.

* * *

The Valo-kas had been hired in Orlais to provide extra protection and support at the Conclave, the sight of the towering forms of the Qunari would cause anyone to pause a second before causing trouble—something that the Divine counted on and why she had personally brought them into the fold so to speak.

Six were dispatched first, three for the first night of the Conclave and three to take over on the second night of the Conclave. No one was foolish enough to believe that a single night of talking would stop the years of fighting between the Templars, Mages and anyone stuck in the middle.

It was decided by a game rock, parchment, blade—a game introduced to the Valo-kas after they had a run in with the Companions and decided, instead of killing each other, they'd be friends which seemed to be par of course with the Companions—that Hissra, Sataa and Meraad would take the first guard duty while the three Adaar siblings would have a relaxing night at the inn in Haven.

Asalsa smiled to herself as her elder siblings, Ataash and Asaara, played cards, ignoring the cautious or almost fearful expressions that surrounded them—expressions that became creased with almost hatred when they caught sight of the staff that leaned against the back of Asalsa's chair.

Mage sentiments were on an all-time low because of the rebellion and the mess of Kirkwall still fresh in people's minds—despite it being three years since the mad mage blew up Kirkwall's Chantry. Even if that wasn't the case, the sight of Qunari mages always made people almost shit themselves as they had heard of the horror stories of the Saarebas—something that Ataash always found amusing and Asaara used to their advantage.

None of the fellow punters would try something, Asalsa knew if only because of Ataash's massive and impressive bulk, the board-sword leaning against his own seat, and the dangerously sharp blades that Asaara had carelessly hung from her own seat.

With two such people beside her, Asalsa was as safe as possible as only a fool would pick a fight with a trio of Qunari.

"Who do you think will cause the most trouble?" Ataash asked idly before he took a deep sip of his ale. "My money is on the mages, years of resentment and fear finally catching up with them."

"Templars are used to doing what they wish or will to the mages though," Asaara argued as she tossed another silver into the pot—it didn't matter who won as the siblings shared all their money—before tugging slightly at one of her loose braids as she looked at the hand she was dealt. "They may want to put the 'uppity' mages in their place."

"True enough," Ataash agreed, glancing up as a dwarf caused a little scene with his crossbow. "Now that's a crossbow."

"You can't even shoot straight with a normal bow," Asaara snorted just before the world shook. "What the— "

"Fuck is this?" Ataash finished for his twin, one large hand gripping his sword while the other reached out for Asalsa as people gasped and screamed, running for the doors as the inn trembled and groaned.

Ataash's hand wrapped around Asalsa's bicep and jerked her out of her seat and towards the door, Asaara at his heels and one hand placed protectively on Asalsa's back.

The mountain, the temple, was bathed in an unnatural green light as the world trembled before with a mighty roar and groan, it exploded and the sky tore.

"Well, shit," Asaara summed it up as they stared as things started to fall from the green tear in the sky—things that shouldn't be there and a fucking tear where there wasn't meant to be.

"Does this mean we don't get paid?" Ataash asked making Asaara shoot him a scowl which clearly said it wasn't the time. "What? Are we meant to go back to Shakrakar and say sorry, but the mountain blew up, killed three of our friends, and we didn't get paid?"

"Asalsa!" Asaara snapped as she saw her younger sister leave them from the corner of her slate-blue eyes. "Where are you going?"

"People could still be alive up there," Asalsa was firm as she stared back at her older siblings, inching towards where she could see soldiers marshalling together—determination to help clear in her own blue-grey gaze as she stared at them. "They need help."

"This is what happens when you name someone soul," Ataash muttered making Asaara hit him before she followed after her younger sister so with a sigh he followed. "We better get paid for this or Shakrakar will be pissed."

Behind the three Qunari, a Carta dwarf slipped through the chaos and towards their fellow Carta members' camp. Edric Cadash needed to be informed of what had happened, he'd know what they should do and if they should bother trying to get back the bodies of the two spies they had sent ahead to the Conclave or if they should give them up as being lost.

* * *

Hunter Banal'ras Lavellan came to with a gasp and a groan in the dark, a slab of stone had stopped mere inches from his head. He guessed he was fortunate to be alive and owed that to the fact he had briefly detoured towards Orlais when he heard that two old members of his clan—Ellana and Elion—were meant to be there, wanting to check in on them and make sure they were safe and happy—he had not agreed to their banishment before but he had been a child back then and a child's voice was not heard—which meant he had been late arriving to the Conclave.

He had barely been half-way up to the temple when the whole mountain seemed to explode and now he found himself buried under rumble.

He knew better than to attempt to move, despite the urge to push the rumble off him as it could, and most likely, would just make it worse. So ignoring his pain, he waited and listened for any sign of help coming—only then would he start shouting and give voice to the stomach-turning pain that vibrated through his whole body.

Hopefully he wouldn't vomit before then as he could barely turn his head. He would hate to have survived a mountain exploding on him just to choke on his own vomit and die, that would just be the biggest kick in the teeth from the Gods. Let Banal'ras think he's going to survive having a mountain drop on him only to let him choke on his own vomit.

* * *

"Mum,"

Kiara looked up at the sound of Kieran's voice, she placed the pen down when she saw her son at the window—paperwork could wait for now.

"The sky has been torn," he told her as he stared out of the window and towards the sky. "Things are falling."

"I know," she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him back into her chest as she too stared at the sky—Fade green leaked into the sky. "Don't worry, everything will be fine, I promise."

"I know," Kieran replied simply, trusting her. "Things will be different now, won't they?"

"Yes," Kiara replied simply. "But I'll be here."

Kieran leaned his head back onto his mum's shoulder. "The Empress will be more scared now."

"She has your mother by her side," Kiara pressed a kiss into his dark hair. "We'll keep her safe."

"She's kind to me," Kieran said as if that's the only reason the Empress of Orlais should be protected and Kiara smiled slightly before she swept her son up into her arms.

"Time for bed," Kiara told him as his arms wrapped around her neck though he was probably too old to be carried by his mum like this—the leather bracelet that she had weaved for him, Morrigan and herself was cool against Kiara's neck as she carried him to his bed.

The sky was torn, the Inquisition was rising and soon news would spread of the Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor.

The world was in chaos and they would bring order and peace, they would fight and defeat an old enemy and change the world.

Kiara had done her part, she had fought beside the Wardens during the Blight, and she had helped Marian Hawke with the Qunari.

This time she would keep her family out of it, keep her family safe. She would not join this fight unless she had to.

Gods, she hoped she didn't have to.

* * *

Grace Trevelyan was remarkably calm as she sat on her knees in what was unmistakeably a dungeon with armed guards surrounding her chained form.

She had been forced out of her rich armour, her sword taken from her—her eldest brother, Tristan, had gifted it to her on her sixteenth—and her shield emblazed with her family's coat of arms had likewise been taken, and forced into rougher coarse clothes that still surprisingly gave her protection—something she shouldn't really complain about, much.

Her father would be enraged he could see how they were treating his third child and first daughter, Grace mused idly, but would such a pious man as her father truly stand up to the faith militia that she found herself surrounded by?

Grace knew without a doubt that he would, despite being a pious Andrastian, her father put family first unlike some members of her extended family.

She hissed as the strange green mark on her hand flared and radiated pain up her left arm.

Whoever, or whatever, had placed this on her hand would pay, she decided with gritted teeth.

Perhaps Edmund would know what sort of magic did this and took her memory, she thought of her youngest brother safe in Ostwick and away from all the useless fighting. Father hadn't allowed him to join the mage delegate and hadn't been happy that Grace had decided to join her relatives at the conclave.

Bann Erik Trevelyan had been uneasy at the thought of the conclave, hopeful at the chance of peace but uneasy overall. So uneasy that he had pulled all his children back home, away from Templars and Mages both, and had loudly argued against Grace going and almost begged her stay home, to leave the conclave business to their cousins.

She had stood firm though, had wanted to be there as peace was hammered out under the Divine's guidance and make sure that those like Edmund, those mages that didn't want to fight, who had no choice when it came to the dissolving of the Circles, and were sometimes forced into fighting for their lives, didn't get a bad deal out of this mess.

It was her love for her brother that made Grace go, it had been because of that love that she had been unmoved in the face of her father's pleas, of his invoking her dead mother in attempt to guilt her into staying.

She of course regretted that now.

She didn't know exactly what happened at the conclave—she couldn't remember and she both hated and feared the blanks her mind drew—but she knew something had, she remembered the ruin she appeared in after the disjointed memories that didn't make sense of running and a woman calling for her.

She remembered the smell of burnt flesh, the way men were immediately on her as she stumbled and coughed and then fell.

Something horrible had happened, Grace knew, and they thought she had something to do with it otherwise she wouldn't be chained up like this, under guard like this.

The door to the dungeon banged open as two women strode in and Grace's life was forever changed.

* * *

"I need to get pissed for _that_," Malika nodded towards the swirling sky outside the window, "made even some sense."

Faren snorted as he gave it a long uneasy look.

"I don't think we'll be able to get pissed enough for that to make sense," he told his lover and Malika's face was sour as she agreed.

"That's the Fade," Ellana was muttered to herself, flicking through thick tomes. "It shouldn't be visible like that, shouldn't be leaking through the veil, what magic caused this?"

Elion knew his sister wouldn't find any answers in their books, but didn't attempt to stop her as it kept her from freaking out too much. He liked their home as it was and would like it to remain without scorch marks that Ellana's lapse of control would cause.

Zevran was silent at his side, cleaning and sharpening all his knives in a way that Elion hadn't seen him do since the Blight and Kirkwall.

Elion's own fingers itched to make some arrows because like his lover, he understood that crap was heading their way—it always headed their way one way or another.

Kiara sat in one of her armchairs, Kieran curled on her lap asleep as she waited for Morrigan to return home—Kieran had been too unnerved to sleep alone in his room and Kiara wouldn't be retiring to bed until Morrigan came home so he simply curled into his mum and slept easier with his mum's arms around him and protecting him from Fade-induced nightmares.

Sometimes it paid to have a mum that scared demons when you were a mage, Elion thought to himself.

"What are we going to do?" Saya was the one to ask the question that most of them were probably thinking.

"We prepare and help out where we can," Kiara answered after a long moment. "But leave the sky and such to someone more able."

Elion snorted.

"Like anyone will be able to deal with this shit," he declared and Kiara didn't answer, just held her son close and awaited her wife.

* * *

**AN: And here it begins, the beginning of the end of this. Tell me what you think, what pairings you'd like and such.**


	49. Chapter 49

Banal'ras came to with a painful jerk and a large hand pushing him back down.

"Careful, you're still injured," a female voice said before his eyes focused and his dark eyes met the grey-blue eyes of a female Qunari.

"Qunari," he hissed in mild confusion and alarm.

"Elf," a deep male voice declared and Banal'ras caught sight of a large male Qunari shifting just over the female shoulder. "Now we've sorted out just what we are, why don't you listen to my dear sister?"

"Ataash," his 'dear' sister chided him as she carefully pushed Banal'ras back on the bed until his woozy head was laid back down on the pillow.

"Asalsa," he mocked back, a smirk curling his lips.

"Where am I? What happened?" Banal'ras asked and Asalsa looked both worried and uncomfortable, her brother didn't have any problems answering his questions.

"We're in Haven," Ataash answered easily, despite Asalsa's small sound of protest. "Temple exploded, killed everyone at the Conclave and half the mountain almost came down upon everyone else."

"Well," Banal'ras raised a slightly trembling hand and let it rest on his forehead. "Shit."

"You have no idea," Ataash chuckled and Asalsa fussed over Banal'ras.

"Rest for now," she told him.

Banal'ras decided to do as Asalsa and settled down to sleep—he'd deal with this shit later.

* * *

Lelianna stared down at the mess of papers written in code before her and remembered.

Months ago, when the Conclave was first being hashed out, Kiara had appeared to speak with the Divine—dressed in her best armour and wearing the medals she earned during the Blight, she had arrived as a knight, a noble-born despite being a bastard, instead of the simple leader of a mercenary company.

She had told the Divine point-blank that the Conclave would fail, that having that many powerful people in one place was just asking for it to be attacked, that the Conclave would end badly for them all.

Kiara had been serious and grim in a way that Lelianna hadn't seen in over a decade, there was a cold certainty in her voice as she spoke that was very convincing and yet the Divine said she was going through with her plans, that she had to try and bring peace.

Kiara had disagreed with her decision but had held her tongue with a scowl on her face and had bowed shortly before turning to leave.

She had stopped to speak with Lelianna before she left though, had firmly told her that the Conclave would bring the Divine's death and implored her to help the Divine see sense and then went on to make her promise one thing.

Kiara had made her promise that she'd keep Vala away from the Conclave itself, kept away from the Temple and Mountain, and Lelianna had agreed, not totally convinced of Kiara's dire warning.

Of course Kiara turned out to be right, Lelianna thought grimly.

She had tried to warn them and they had ignored her, Lelianna had ignored her despite knowing that Kiara didn't give out her warnings on a whim. Lelianna had looked for any hints of a threat towards the Conclave and to the Divine and found nothing—had missed something—so she put aside Kiara's warning.

And the Divine, her friend, had paid the price for that.

Lelianna would never be able to live without feeling that guilt, for ignoring Kiara when she should have heeded her and for not doing more to convince Justinia to be aware and careful.

Justinia was dead, her friend and once-saviour was dead, and Lelianna had a hand in it.

* * *

Varric was almost surprised that he didn't see Kiara and her Companions in Haven, almost being the key word.

He remembered just why Kiara had moved her family away from Kirkwall, for protection from Anders' future actions and to protect her family.

He wasn't surprised that she was doing her best to keep them from this latest shit-storm, Varric would have liked to do something similar and yet he was here, he saw the explosion, he had been there as they brought back broken bodies and screaming people, he had watched and fought demons falling from the sky and he couldn't ignore it.

So he was stuck here, helping the Seeker that kidnapped him, tortured him and interrogated him, and a religious group focused on bringing order back to the world and focused on Grace Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste.

He pitied the noble daughter that was having so much laid on her shoulders, just days after she woke up from a trip in the Fade.

It wasn't something anyone did every day after all and yet Grace Trevelyan hadn't had the time to stop and think about all the shit she's gone through.

Varric knew that when she was able to stop and think, well it probably wouldn't be pretty.

"Varric," a familiar voice greeted and Varric looked up to see the only Companion here.

"Vala," he greeted in surprise. "Andraste's ass, Kiara let you out of her sight and in this mess?"

Vala laughed, one hand running through her red hair—a brighter and deeper red than her lover.

"Only after she threatened Lelianna into keeping a tight watch on me," there was a smile curling her lips at the thought of her leader—sister in some ways—the fierce Kiara Cadash, and her lover, the lovely Sister Nightingale.

It seemed like something Kiara would do, threaten a friend to make sure one of her family was safe especially when it was Vala, the youngest, and when she'd be so far away from the rest that they couldn't get help to her quickly.

Varric thought it said something about this shit-storm if Kiara was keeping away while her youngest 'sister' was in the middle of it. Kiara was afraid, he realised quietly, and if someone like Kiara was afraid, well that meant there was more going on than Varric had thought.

"How's the rest of the family?" Varric asked as Vala took the seat across from him, shaking away those thoughts as he did.

A shadow briefly crossed her face before she placed a smile on her lips, it lay false on her lips—she had obviously not learnt how to smile from Kiara.

"You know, the same as always," she said unconvincingly.

"Vala, I'm the ultimate liar and thus know when someone is lying to me," he pointed out and Vala's shoulders slumped.

"It's not my place to say," she told him quietly. "I'm just worried."

"Kiara won't let anything happen," Varric said confidently and Vala's face was shadowed once again.

"There are somethings even Kiara can't fight," she told him in undertone.

"No one's dying, are they?" he asked, worried about his friends and relieved when Vala shook her head.

"No, no one's dying," she told him and he heard the unspoken 'yet' in her tone.

Well, that got rid of his relief quick, he thought to himself grimly. Probably another reason Kiara was going to do her best to keep out of this, something was wrong with a member of her family, something serious, something Kiara couldn't fight and she wouldn't risk them just to fight against this—whatever this was, Varric still didn't have a clue and he doubted anyone else did.

Well, shit.

* * *

With Asalsa volunteering her magic for healing and other such and Ataash being there to guard her back, it left Asaara to deal with the Seeker and bring up the matter of payment—despite his lack of timing, Ataash was right in the fact they couldn't go back without being paid.

"You're asking for payment?" Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast hissed, outraged as she squared right up to Asaara—the Qunari could respect the Seeker for that, few humans were brave enough to square up to a Qunari on their own. "Why should we pay you anything? You failed to keep the Divine safe!"

"You're blaming us for this?" Asaara banged her fist to her chest before thrusting it out to gesture at everything and glared down at the human. "We lost three good people up there, we lost our friends because your Divine pulled us into this shit. This wasn't our fight or our fault!"

For a moment Cassandra looked like she was going to spit something else at her—an insult, an accusation, something like that—then she slumped into herself and rubbed a hand across her face.

Asaara refused to feel even a flicker of guilt for the suddenly weary look appearing on the other woman's face.

"You're right," Cassandra admitted. "It wasn't your fault and it is wrong for me to blame you, but you aren't the only one to lose friends up there."

Asaara tilted her head to acknowledge the slight rebuke, that's all the Seeker would get from her. From the expression that crossed the human woman's face, she obviously knew that and wasn't happy about it.

"I would like to extend your contract," it wasn't Cassandra that said that, it was Ambassador Montilyet with Lelianna, the Spymaster, by her side. "We need all the help we can get to deal with this crisis and your sister has already volunteered valuable help. You also have a favoured reputation in Orlais— "

"And you need all the good reputation you can get with your heretical movement," Asaara cut in with a sigh, Shakrakar would agree to the Ambassador's proposal as it would almost grantee more money in the long run but she wouldn't send more members, no the Adaar siblings would be it and Asaara knew it. "You'll have to speak with Shakrakar, she handles all the contracts and shit."

They should have done as the Companions had done and kept out of this shit, Asaara thought to herself almost mournfully. Now they were stuck here, great.

"However, if any of your Templars attempt something against my sister, neither myself or my brother will stop ourselves from defending her fiercely," she declared with a glare and the Spymaster smiled.

"We would expect nothing less," she told the Qunari almost warmly. "Come Jose, we best get into contact with Shakrakar sooner rather than later."

"Looks like we're stuck together," her brother mused as he walked up to her and the Seeker as they watched both the Spymaster and Ambassador retreat back to the Chantry.

Cassandra made a sound of disgust and stalked off, likely to hit something at the 'training area' they had set up.

"I see you're already getting along with people," Ataash smirked and Asaara scowled.

"You left Asalsa alone?" she demanded her twin and his smirk dropped.

"You do know she's not a kid anymore?" he asked as Asaara made her own sound of disgust and headed towards the 'healing' cabins. "Yep, you two are going to get along fine."

* * *

A kick hit her side and a gasp ripped from her lips as Malika startled awake and before the fog finished lifting from her head, she had rolled of the bed and into a crouch.

"Nooo, nooo," a familiar slurred voice almost shouted out and Malika's heart dropped into her stomach.

"Faren," she whispered to herself as she stood and watched as her lover twisted around the sheets of their bed, goosebumps and cold sweat covering him.

The nightmares were getting worse. Nightmares weren't anything new, not really, as Faren had suffered from them since the Joining. But they had lessened in the decade since then, since the Blight ended and all that, until now that is.

Faren hadn't had such nightmares since the Blight when the Archdemon was calling for its armies.

It was the sign of the Calling, Malika knew, but it was too soon. They were meant to have years more, enough years for Lendanis to track down the cure with her group of Wardens.

But it looked like they wouldn't have those years though Kiara would chide her for thinking that—Kiara was convinced that Malika and Faren had those years, Malika didn't know why but it gave her some relief and hope.

Kiara wasn't often wrong, not when it came to the big things and this was a big thing. Malika only had to remember that as she woke her lover from another nightmare and held him as he tried not to cry.

* * *

"You know we could help," Elion's voice didn't startle Kiara, she had been aware of him for a while and quietly watching him from the corner of her eye.

"We could," Kiara confirmed, but didn't say anything else making Elion sigh as he walked into the library and sat across from her, glancing out the window and up into the sky with a frown.

"So why are we doing nothing then?" he asked almost softly.

"We aren't doing nothing," she argued. "I'm making sure supplies get to those effected by both the war and the aftermath of the Conclave, got some of the lower Companions working with Lelianna's little birds."

"But we're not helping like we did with the Blight," Elion disagreed. "We fought by the Wardens side, we thought against the Blight, why are we doing the same with Lelianna's little Inquisition?"

"We're not as young as we used to be," Kiara attempted to argue and he snorted.

"Don't even try that, we're not that old and remember Wynne?" he asked and she grimaced slightly—Wynne had been a lot older than them when she helped fight the Blight, had been older still when she accidently helped kick-started the rebellion and would have probably still be going strong if she hadn't died so a Templar could live. "Don't try pulling that on me, what's the real reason? You scared of the demons?"

Kiara actually snorted and gave him a look and Elion smirked a bit, remembering the memorable occasion when they had actually had a run in with some demons and they took one look at Kiara before fleeing—unnerving at the time, funny to look back on.

Kiara wasn't really afraid of demons, she just really disliked them and hated their ability to mess with her head—she was also uncomfortable with harmless spirits as they could do the same if they wanted to.

"Then what's the reason? It's not like we haven't fought against something this big before, remember the Blight?"

"Vala almost died during the Blight," she replied to his question, her words almost clipped.

"So you are afraid," Elion realised. "You know we are all going to die one day?"

"Is it wrong of me to want to delay that day for as long as I could?" she asked him and he shook his head.

"We are fighters, Ki, and you know that," he told her. "It's who we are, what we are, you can't always protect us. They may need us."

For a moment, Elion thought she would simply ignore him but then she sighed and he knew he had gotten through to her.

"If they call for us," she breathed in deeply. "I guess we'll answer the call."


	50. Chapter 50

Grace Trevelyan rubbed her temples as she leaned back in the chair of her cabin.

Herald of Andraste they were calling her now, the Chantry was calling her a heretic and her father was calling her home.

She could not go home though and, deep in his heart, Erik Trevelyan knew that.

Even if Grace hadn't pledged to help Cassandra and the fledging Inquisition restore peace and seal the Breach, Grace wouldn't have been able to leave, not when she held the only thing possible of sealing the Rifts.

Cassandra may have been nice enough to ask for her help, but Grace knew she really didn't have a choice when it came to her staying or not.

She would be a part of this Inquisition until all things were said and done and there was nothing anyone could do about it—something that no doubt irked her father.

It didn't help matters that Grace was apparently now one of the leaders of the Inquisition—only by the virtue of the glowing magic on her hand—and its figurehead at that.

That just opened her up to assassins, she thought grimly, though she wasn't sure if the Chantry would openly employ an assassin to take out the heretic.

Then again, Grace knew the reputation of Lelianna. Sister Nightingale was impossible to mistake with those who knew her and Grace knew of her. The Bard of the Chantry, the Divine's shadow master.

Assassins would probably come from the Chantry though Grace was certain that she'd probably never know how close they came with Lelianna's spies about, ready and waiting to take down threats to their Herald.

Grace bit back a sigh and returned to reading the reports written on both the mages and Templars—reports meant to help her decide which to ally with—and Grace wasn't sure how it came down to her choice of who they were going to ally with.

* * *

Grace Trevelyan had made interesting friends since becoming the famed Herald of Andraste, Varric thought as he sipped his nightly ale.

An elven apostate that was going to be sticking around and spent far too much time in the Fade to make Varric feel all that comfortable. Varric didn't know what to think about Solas, the fact he showed up and was able to save Grace's life like he did, well that didn't sit well with Varric.

It was great that he was able to save Grace's life, Varric liked the noble woman and was glad that he got to call her friend, but Solas' timing, his knowledge, well, Varric was a writer and if he wrote this story he'd make Solas somehow apart of what happened at the Conclave.

Sure, this was real life and not one of his stories, but Varric found real life often followed the same lines as a story did. So yeah, he wouldn't be trusting Solas all that much.

Then there was Sera, an elf so unelf-like that Varric would have thought she was ashamed of being an elf if she didn't so brazenly show off her ears with her choppy haircut—something he thought she had done herself.

Sera was also startlingly young; she had been a child during the Blight after all. And it showed in the way she spoke, the way she saw the world and the group she had joined before the Inquisition—thing that made her clash with the older and often more serious companions that Grace had picked up.

Though it seemed both their new Warden friend and Qunari friends seemed to like her. The Adaar siblings often pulled the elf over when they were relaxing in the evenings—Sera's fear of magic never seemed to extend to Asalsa—and dealt her into whatever game they were playing.

The Iron Bull seemed to like her and Varric had already overheard numerous somewhat strange attacks he thought they could do together.

And the Warden Blackwall treated Sera like a little sister or even a daughter, something that had surprised Varric when he first saw them together as he had assumed that Blackwall was rather serious—which he was, but he also had a sense of humour that he could share with her.

The Iron Bull was different than what Varric had expected from the large Qunari, especially considering he was still part of the Qun. He drank, he swore, he joked and slept around, and actually deeply cared about his Chargers. It also wasn't an arse to the Adaar siblings—who Varric quickly befriended and somehow wasn't surprised to found out that they knew the Companions—as they weren't born within the Qun and thus not Tal-Vosth which he didn't like and had spent years killing.

Varric actually liked the guy, something he wasn't expecting after Kirkwall and dealing with crazy Qun-following Qunari—he still had nightmares of the Qunari mage silently setting himself on fire because it was against the Qun for him to be free, that had deeply shocked him because the only Qunari mage he knew before him had been Saya and she seemed to enjoy her freedom from the Qun and her people.

Warden Blackwall was different from the Wardens that Varric had met in the past—and no, he didn't really count Faren as a Warden as in his mind Faren was a Companion—and seemed to have strong morals and an honour code—which made him smell a story as there was always a reason behind such things.

Then there was Vivienne, Madame de Fer. The Lady of Iron scared Varric in a different way to both Aveline and Kiara.

Aveline was a highly dedicated woman, dedicated to her the law and her job, dedicated to Kirkwall, dedicated to her husband and friends—it never ceased to amaze Varric that she actually worked with Smugglers for a time before she joined the Guard. She was loyal and honourable, and worked far too much.

Kiara was dangerous, she was the type of woman who could kill you with little thought or effort if you became a threat to her or those she held dear. She walked around with enough blades to arm a small army, knew too many secrets and things for one woman and Varric was pretty sure she could see the future.

Vivienne though, Vivienne was ambitious and ambitious people were always the most dangerous in Varric's opinion. It was ambition that made Vivienne ally with the Inquisition, to restore peace and the Circles so she could finally become Grand Enchanter, it was ambition to have a hand in history that lend her to the Inquisitions side.

It was a good thing that Vivienne seemed to like Grace and that Grace was making sure to become friends with Vivienne as Vivienne could easily turn into a powerful enemy. It was best to have her on their side.

* * *

Banal'ras hissed as he gingerly attempted to walk with the aid of his healer, Asalsa.

The Qunari was his 'main' healer and came to talk with him often, making them tentative friends.

The rumble had jarred his spine, left bruises and cuts, and crushed his left leg which was the injury that ended his career as a Hunter—even with the brace that the Blacksmith had knocked up for him.

He made too much noise now, every prey and shem would hear him coming. He'd have to take up a craft or something to be of use to the Clan, Banal'ras knew, but he'd think about that when he returned to the Clan—which wouldn't be for a while.

Banal'ras had decided to stay with the Inquisition for the time-being and the Spymaster, Lelianna—friend of both Elion and Ellana and a member of their new Clan, according to the rumours—had already decided he'd be her assistant.

The red-head elf by her side—Vala Tabris, she introduced with a smile, a member of Elion and Ellana's new mixed up Clan—had simply smiled as her lover informed the bedridden elf of his new duties mere moments after he told Asalsa that he had decided to stay with the Inquisition.

Frankly, Banal'ras didn't know if she simply assumed he was staying or actually somehow knew he was staying when Lelianna told him of all she expected from him as her assistant.

"You're doing well," Asalsa told him, breaking him from his thoughts, as she kept pace with each limping step he made.

"He looks like a baby animal learning to walk again," her brother bluntly stated from where he was walking behind them.

Ataash really wasn't Banal'ras' favourite though he was around almost as much as Asalsa considering he was his younger sister's unofficial bodyguard while their older sister was off dealing with the leaders of the Inquisition.

"Ataash," she hissed back at him, a scowl on her face and Banal'ras didn't have to look back to know he would just shrug and smirk at his sister, not even the least bit sorry for his blunt words.

Banal'ras just ignored him as he got used to walking again.

* * *

Kiara had known fear before, had known true terror as she stared down at the Archdemon and wanted to run far away for the first time in decades.

Fear was an old friend to her, it was fear that cooled her heated blood in each fight she had fought and kept her alive that much longer.

It was fear that made her bring her family close and keep out of things, to leave it to the heroes and such to do their duty without her watching over them.

It would be terror that drew her out of hiding and to the heroes as she pledged her loyalty to them.

It would be rage, a rage that had never been fully doused, the rage even Morrigan and Kieran's love could not calm, that would keep her there.

The rage that Hydra invoked, that Logan honed, that she had sharpened. It was the rage that ran through her viens like fire, it was the rage that made Ellana glad that Kiara wasn't a mage, it was the rage that made demons run from her.

It was the rage that made her capable of massacres, of slaughtering her enemies without a thought. It was the rage that made her so dangerous, made so many wary of her.

* * *

It was for Edmund that Grace finally settled on to the Mages, she was confident that the Inquisition and herself could deal with Alexius' trap for her. So she went to the meeting with Varric and Vivienne, Lelianna and her men as well as Dorian entered secretly.

She was confident up until the moment she and Dorian was hit by a strange teleporting magic, until she saw the red lyrium bursting out of Grand Enchanter Fiona's skin as she told the tale of the end of the world, until she saw Vivienne's glowing red eyes and the glimmer of red shining through Varric's skin, until she saw Lelianna pale, drawn and corrupted skin.

It was then that Grace knew she had chosen wrong, it was then that Grace knew she couldn't offer the mages a full alliance like she had first planned.

Not now, not now she knew how close they came to the end of the world because of their actions, because of Fiona's foolish alliance with Alexius and Tevinter.

She hoped that Edmund would forgive her for her decision, for once again shackling the mages.

"Andraste's ass!" Varric exclaimed, sounding angry for the first time that she had known him and breaking her away from the argument between Lelianna and Dorian. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, enjoying Alexius' hospitality," a dry female voice remarked and Grace spun towards the door.

A tall woman stood there, thin and wane, red lyrium visible through her pale skin and dark spots of corruption. She stood in prisoner's garbs, wielding two blades—stolen most likely, like Varric's, Vivienne's and later Lelianna's weapons were.

"Kiara," Lelianna breathed and Kiara's glowing eyes glanced at the Spy-master for but a moment before settling on Grace with a look that sent a chill down her spine.

"So I'm guessing you're the Herald of Andraste?" she asked. "Let's hope you don't fuck the world up with another chance, shall we?"

And that was how Grace Trevelyan, Lady Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste and soon to be Inquisitor, meet Kiara Cadash, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, Knight of Ferelden, Wife of the Empress' Court Occult Advisor and Leader of Companions.


	51. Chapter 51

"You are Kiara of the Companions?" Dorian broke the silence. "Even in Tevinter, there are tales of your company."

"I'm the last of the Companions," Kiara corrected almost sharply and both Varric and Lelianna inhaled sharply.

"Vala….?" Lelianna trailed off, pained as she turned away.

"Andraste's arse," Varric muttered.

Grace remembered Vala, the red headed elf that walked at Lelianna's side, who comforted Lelianna when Grace couldn't. She was kind, quiet and so loving with Lelianna. It was hard to believe she was dead, but then again, Grace knew that probably all those she knew was dead or a prisoner somewhere like Varric, Vivienne and Lelianna were.

"I'm so sorry," Vivienne's words were genuine as she placed a comforting hand on Lelianna's shoulder, Grace was almost surprised that Lelianna didn't shrug it off. "I've heard much of the Companions, I'm sure they didn't go out without a fight."

A ghost of crooked smile curled Kiara's cracked lips.

"We were always fighters," she replied. "Took almost everyone with them."

There was a tone of pride mixed with grief and rage in her voice.

"You'll be making sure that doesn't happen again," Kiara glared at Grace. "You will make sure you don't fuck up again."

"You're blaming Grace?" Dorian asked in mild disbelief, moving to stand beside Grace in a protective movement which reminded the other noble of her brothers. "It is not her fault."

"I blame many people and I'm entitled to blame them," Kiara retorted sharply. "If I truly blamed her for everything, I'd kill her where she stands, however I believe you can fix this."

Never had Grace been threated so bluntly before.

"Kiara," Varric almost warned and Kiara looked away, not in shame though—she was silently standing by what she said and wouldn't take it back.

"We need to get you to Alexius, yes?" she asked after a moment and Dorian nodded, his hand comforting on Grace's shoulder. "Then let's go."

* * *

Kiara of the Companions was deadly, Grace thought as she easily fought and killed Alexius' people.

If she miss-stepped then Grace didn't not see it, Kiara's blades always struck true will lethal blows. There was a rage with each movement, rage in each step and stab, rage in each flick when the blood built up on her blades.

If she was this deadly, this dangerous, when so thin and ill then Grace hated the thought of this woman being her enemy when whole and healthy. This was a woman that would make a valuable ally if Grace could court her to the side of the Inquisition though Grace was unsure she knew how to do that when she got back to her time, to her real time.

Grace thought all this before she watched demons flee from the very sight of her.

"You'd be very useful," Dorian mused, already thinking about their real present and keeping his mind away from the nightmare of a future-present they were now dealing with—his way of coping, Grace thought, and she also thought that Lelianna wasn't wrong when she accused Dorian of not thinking of this reality and them as real. "Is there a reason they are avoiding you so fearfully?"

"A demon attempted to trap me in the Fade, it didn't work out well for it," Kiara spoke shortly as she looked towards the fleeing demons. "I'm guessing what I did spread throughout the Fade."

"I would assume the same," Vivienne said dryly as she blasted one of the fleeing demons with ice—she had been more vicious then Grace had expected when fighting, but Grace couldn't blame the older woman.

* * *

You didn't need to be from Southern Thedas to hear of the Companions. Tevinter had its own share of stories about the Companions despite the fact original members never passing through their borders.

Dorian had never really made his mind up when it came to the Companions, he had paid little interest to the slaves and such that were freed in the Companions name and other such things—most of the so-called Companions in Tevinter probably had never met the real Companions—but he had taken note of the real Companions, Champions of the Downtrodden and such in Southern Thedas.

And Kiara Cadash was the Queen of them.

Dorian could finally understand the awe and respect that Southern Thedas held the woman in, and could believe in what he used to think were wild stories.

This woman, weak and ill, corrupted and hurt, wielding stolen blades was killing more than he and Grace was and they were in full health.

Stories of her being almost a one-woman army suddenly didn't seem so ridiculous, the number of stories of her killing various things—demons, dragons, and darkspawn just to name a few—were believable.

This was a woman that Dorian would dearly want on his side if he was in Grace's place—even though her future/older self didn't seem to like Grace so much at the moment—and he knew with one glance at his new friend's face that she was planning on how to court this powerful woman to their side.

A woman that could change the tide in a battle, a woman that would bring respect and fear to the Inquisition.

And with this one woman came others, if Malika Cadash, Saya the Qunari, the Lavellan Twins Elion and Ellana and the others that personally followed Kiara Cadash was half as good as her?

Whoever this Elder One would dearly regret challenging them, Dorian knew.

* * *

"Oh my Maker," Grace breathed out as she stared up at the broken and green sky.

"Wha—what happened?" Dorian for once stumbled over his words as he stared up at the sky.

"What do you think would happen without her to close the Breach?" Kiara commented, her chin jerking towards Grace before she turned her attention to Alexius' men.

Varric, Vivienne nor Lelianna seemed to be surprised as they raised their weapons and fought, letting both Grace and Dorian regain their balance.

* * *

Magisters were a different breed of mages, Grace thought to herself as she pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of her face as she stared at the body of Alexius. She had fought a lot of mages since the Conclave and none had put up as such a fight like Alexius—though she was unsure if it was because he was a Magister or because Lelianna had killed Felix, killed his son who he had done all this for.

Kiara had called for his body to be set on fire—having a fresh corpse around with the world like it was? It was just asking for the body to be possessed in her opinion and Grace may have agreed with her—but Dorian couldn't bring himself to and Vivienne was more at home with ice-spells then fire—though Grace thought Vivienne was also being considerate of Dorian's feelings.

Their enemy he may have been, Alexius had been important to Dorian and knowing he had a hand in killing him, well, Grace didn't know how he just kept going with just a tight jaw.

Then again, Grace knew that Dorian was pushing away what was happening, focusing on getting them back and being ready to dismiss this—Grace honestly envied that as she knew she would never be able to forget this, to push this to the back of her mind.

This experience had changed everything, it had changed how she would approach the Mages and may change how Edmund would look at her when they met again.

He wouldn't understand, Grace knew, how his sister that always supported him and mage rights would turn around and chain the rebel mages. He wasn't here, he didn't see this, wouldn't know just how close those rebels brought them to the end of the world.

Yes, they weren't solely at fault, but it was their alliance, their naïve trust, that helped bring this horrible future play out.

Grace would never forget that, could never forget that.

"The Elder One is coming," Kiara spoke, breaking Grace from her thoughts. "How long till you fix this?"

"It'll take me ten minutes to reverse the ritual," Dorian spoke, purple magic leaking from his fingers as he spun his staff in one hand.

"We may not have ten minutes, Sparky," Varric said as he glanced towards the great-doors.

"Then we will just have to make ten minutes," Vivienne spoke grimly as she tightened her grip on her staff before glancing at the dwarf. "Shall we?"

"Better than becoming a lyrium-statue," Varric grunted as he lifted his newly-retrieved Bianca.

"I can't ask you to die for me," Grace spoke up, staring at her friends.

"But you aren't asking, dear," Vivienne smiled. "We are volunteering."

"We're already dead anyway," Kiara declared before she glanced at Lelianna. "Shall we?"

"Just like old-times," Lelianna almost smiled. "For the Companions?"

"Of course," Kiara nodded.

* * *

Varric and Vivienne were the first line of defence, Dorian didn't know how long they would last but he knew they would give their all to delay the Elder One's forces and that was more than Dorian could ask for.

Dorian only glanced away from the ritual for a moment and noticed Kiara whispering something in Grace's ear, her hand curled around Grace's own hand for a moment before she stepped away and took her place next to Lelianna as their second line of defence.

"How do I know that will happen?" Grace called out, not straying far from Dorian.

"You have a call which she will not be able to ignore," Kiara didn't look back as she answered. "Trust me, I know."

Grace frowned but said nothing, her fist—the hand that Kiara had held—curled tightly as she watched both Lelianna and Kiara readied their weapons, standing firm in the face of their deaths.

"Grace," Dorian called to her and the noble daughter moved to his side, forced to watch as people died for her and a chance to change the fate of the world.

It was a burden that she would carry with her, like she would always carry the memories of this moment.

She would remember the resolve in Vivienne and Varric's eyes as they sent themselves towards death. She would remember the flop Vivienne's body made as the demons threw her on the hard stone floor. She would remember the way they dragged Varric with them.

She would remember Lelianna's face, so serious and grim, as she shot arrow after arrow at the approaching horde of demons. She would remember the way that Kiara dashed forward, demons jerking away from her and reluctantly attacking, the whirl of steel in her hands.

She would remember liquid fire leaking down a fire demon's side when it attempted to get passed Kiara and towards Lelianna. She would remember the hand of a terror piercing through Kiara, remember Lelianna's scream as her arrow buried itself in the terror's throat.

She would remember Kiara stumbling, bleeding and choking, but still fighting strong as demons slipped passed her and towards Lelianna.

She would remember the choking and bloody cry of Kiara as Lelianna fell under the attacks of demons, of her snarls and blood-stained teeth as she attempted to reach her fallen friend and it took her being speared once again by two other terrors for her body to give up, blades still held in death-grips and dark eyes staring straight at her, silently demanding Grace not to let this happen again.

Kiara Cadash's dark eyes were the last thing Grace saw of that horrible future before reality twisted and she was back in time, Alexius standing before and Lelianna's guards standing over corpses, both Vivienne and Varric standing firm at her back, healthy and whole and undamaged by torture and poisoning.

"It's over, Alexius," Dorian was the one that spoke those words, watching in slight pity as his old mentor fell to knees in defeat and beseeched his apparently dying son.

Grace could say nothing, couldn't speak passed the lump in her throat as she kept her fist tight.

"Well, I glad that's over," Dorian spoke to her in undertone, one hand clasping her shoulder in support.

Of course that's when the royal guards of Ferelden's royal family marched in with an angered King Alistair between them and a rather serious-faced Prince Duncan hastily following his father, light brown eyes darting this way and that as he did.

"Or not," Dorian almost sighed.


	52. Chapter 52

Alistair had known that the Rebel Mages would ask for sanctuary from Ferelden long before Grand Enchanter Fiona had come to his court and asked.

The Free Marches wouldn't open their city-states to the Mages, not when Kirkwall was still fresh in memory and news was still rather dire from there, Orlais was in the midst of a civil war and would hardly be safe for them so that left them with Ferelden unless they wished to travel to Nevarra.

Ferelden had recovered from the Blight, there was no civil-war being fought and there wouldn't be in Alistair's lifetime nor his children's—Anora couldn't champion for the throne, not when Andra had given Alistair three children with another on the way while she still had none.

The only conflict they would expect from Ferelden would be from Templars and that was true all over Southern Thedas.

It had given time for Alistair to prepare and decide.

Eamon had cautioned against granting them sanctuary especially as they were still under the leadership of Grand Enchanter Fiona—the woman that called for the vote and forced everyone mage to go through with her decision.

Andra had thought they should grant sanctuary to those who would be willing to go under the leadership of Leona, she thought they should open the doors of Academy of Magi—the newly renamed Tower of Magi in Denerim—to those that were willing to go under Leona's protection and leadership and only them.

They already had a number of mages that had done that, she had pointed out to Eamon, amongst them had been Eamon's own son.

Leona had agreed to house those that wished it, but had also argued that they should give some sanctuary to all the Rebel Mages.

While Grand Enchanter Fiona's call for vote and breaking of the Circles had been reckless and foolish—Kirkwall was still too fresh in the people's memory, to call for the end of the Circles was almost condoning what Anders had done and no one could every truly condone what he had done, Sereda had been so ashamed of what one of her recruits had gone on to do and still blamed herself (which was probably the reason behind her taking to the Deeproads to fight beside the Legion)—Leona had doubted she'd do something like that again, not now when her people needed her in a different way.

Alistair had agreed with Leona after several hours and had asked of his people who would be willing to house the Rebel Mages. Teagan had been the first to offer and so the Rebel Mages had gone to Redcliffe.

For a while, it seemed to be going as well as could be expected during this trying time, and then merely a week after the Conclave, Teagan had come riding with his men to Denerim and told Alistair of Fiona's mad alliance with Tevinter that led to he and his people being kicked out of their homes.

Leona had been disappointed and horrified at what her suggestion had brought, Andra grim and serious as she dealt with the influx of people fleeing Redcliffe and their surroundings lands to Denerim, and Alistair? Alistair had been furious.

He had done them a great favour, had allowed them to stay within his boarders and under the protection of his people, and this is how Fiona repaid him? By throwing his uncle from his home? From scaring people away from their homes and lands? As if they weren't afraid enough with this Rebellion on and the crisis that the Conclave had brought? All for an alliance with Tevinter?

No, he wouldn't allow it, not in his kingdom.

The Rebel Mages had broken his trust and were no longer welcome in Ferelden, that went especially for Fiona.

* * *

An angry King of Ferelden actually made things easier for Grace as Fiona had no choice when it came to her conditions for their alliance.

It was good for both of them—though Fiona didn't know it and probably hated her right about now—but Grace wasn't in the mood to be nice.

She had just had four people die for her, three of those people she'd have to see daily and a fourth that she still has to get on her side, she's probably lost all the respect Edmund had for when he heard this and she was tired.

So tired, she had witnessed the end of world and now she just wanted to sleep till it seemed like a bad dream.

Of course that thinking led her to bad dreams, which led her to be sitting in the tavern when most people were snug in bed.

"Can't sleep?" a quiet voice asked and Grace looked up from where she was rubbing her temples and staring sightlessly into her still full tankard.

Vala Tabris stood before her, long dark red hair down from her usual ponytail, hiding all but the tip of her right ear while she had tucked strands behind her left which showed of the piercing in its lobe and rim. The green and brown armour that all of Lelianna's people wore was gone, making her seem smaller and thinner as she stood in a green tunic and simple brown breeches.

"That obvious?" Grace attempted to joke, wincing at the flatness of her voice before gesturing Vala to take a seat. "Care to share why you are up?"

"Anna works for long hours and sometimes forgets to take care of herself," Vala smiled slightly and it took a moment too long to realise that 'Anna' was short of Lelianna. "I bring her drinks and food during the night."

"Oh," Grace replied almost dumbly and Vala frown in concern.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Vala asked gently and for a moment Grace was tempted, she wanted to spill about what happened and how when she closed her eyes she could only see what happened, could only see Vivienne and Varric's limp bodies, could only see Lelianna being overwhelmed, could only see Kiara staring straight at her as life drained from those dark eyes.

But the moment past and Grace knew she couldn't, not here and not now. Not when hope was surging through the village and people were still looking at her for leadership.

Vala saw her decision in eyes and on her face and inclined her head slightly before she looked down at the table for a moment.

"Did Lelianna mention we were at Redcliffe during the Blight?" golden eyes glanced up just to see Grace shake her head. "We were in the Hinterlands when we met the Walking Dead as Kiara called them, we were going to petition the aid of Arl Eamon or at least his wife and had no idea of the trouble they were having.

They attacked during the night and I was seriously injured, Saya carried me all the way to Redcliffe with Ellana doing her best keeping me alive. Kiara was furious as she stood watch over me as Ellana healed me, was still furious when night came and I was mostly stable and the dead returned.

She rained hellfire down upon them, but it didn't really help her fury, she was still furious when the others were heading towards the castle to confront the person behind it. Kiara refused to go with them, knowing that she'd only do something she'd regret in her fury," Vala glanced up once again. "Even the best of us let our emotions become the better of us."

"Kiara stopped herself," Grace pointed out, maybe a bit more sourly then she wanted, and Vala nodded slightly, agreeing easily with her words.

"Only just though and do you know what she would have done? She's cut a merciless path to that person and have killed them. What she could have done is a lot worse than what you have done," the elf said softly. "You have still offered them protection, offered them sanctuary even if it isn't as open and free as they may have wished—it is still better than what they could have had."

Vala was right, it didn't suddenly make things better but it certainly eased her mind over her decision somewhat. It wouldn't make the memories go away, wouldn't do away with the nightmares, but it helped and that was all Grace could ask for at the moment.

* * *

"They don't look happy to be here," Ataash mused, glancing up from where he was sharpening his sword and towards the Rebel Mages that were being directed to tents and such, the clashing of the swords and shields of Cullen's men covered his voice from being overheard easily.

Asaara snorted as she dragged the fine-toothed comb through Asalsa's long hair.

"That's an understatement," their elder sister spoke, her braids carelessly pulled back in a bun. "Their alliance with Tevinter was built on false promises and because of their actions the Inquisition shackled them instead of welcoming them with open-arms like they think they should have been."

"They were desperate," Asalsa attempted to defend them and winced when her elder sister tugged sharply on her hair before returning to her gentle strokes. "They made a mistake."

"A mistake, that according to rumours, would have ended the world as we know it," Asaara's voice was hard as she spoke. "Their Grand Enchanter was a fool to trust the Magister's word."

"Worse thing she could have done," Ataash agreed shortly.

Asalsa quietly agreed with her siblings, it was the worst thing the Grand Enchanter could have done and it had almost been too late when she was confronted with the truth. She could attempt to defend them, but Asalsa couldn't find away—not truly.

Yes, they had been desperate, but Grand Enchanter Fiona should have realised exactly what it meant when she agreed to an alliance with Tevinter, should have known it would only backfire on her and mages everywhere.

Tevinter wasn't looked kindly upon anywhere apart from Tevinter, the Rebel Mages had enough of a bad image before the alliance and even with the alliance—mostly one-sided that it was—with Inquisition wouldn't erase that.

It was quiet for a moment as Asaara started to braid Asalsa's hair and Ataash thumbed the edge of his blade, it was of course then that Sera appeared and plopped herself on one of the wooden stubs that they used for chairs outside their tent.

"You know," Sera began as she eyed Asaara and Asalsa with her keen eyes, a cloak had been hastily wrapped around her brightly coloured form as Haven had gotten colder overnight. "I don't get why you go through all that fuss, just cut it off—that's what I did."

"We noticed," Ataash snorted and Asalsa was forced to move with her sister as she thumped him across the head. "Fuck, come on! You know it's the truth!"

Sera giggled to herself, not at all offended, and Asalsa carefully tilted her head to watch her older sister scowl at their brother.

"So," Sera began, leaning forward with that grin of hers. "What do you think of the Lady Herald's recent decision?"

"Do we need to have an opinion on it?" Asaara asked easily tying another one of Asalsa's braids.

"'Course," Sera almost scoffed. "Everyone else does. Solas is being his moody-ass self and not approving, Vivienne is almost beaming and is currently in talks with Cullen about keeping a 'discreet' eye on the mages with his Templars.

Varric is more indifferent, he is sympathetic when it comes to mages but believes they only have themselves to blame because of the fuck up with that Magister bloke— 'course every mage Varric cares about is far from here and considered safe.

Cassandra's pissed, but personally I think it's because the mages keep going to her to complain—the blacksmith had to make-up some iron training-dummies for her since she's destroyed all the other ones after some of those complaints.

Blackwell is difficult to pin-point really, but I think he's disappointed and wanted the Herald to fully ally with the mages—at least he still has an awesome beard to make up for that.

Bull's been quiet and his Chargers are closing ranks around his Dalish mage—I mean, archer though that's not fooling anyone really. And—"

"For fucks sake," Ataash interrupted her. "Do you just spy on us when you aren't doing anything else?"

"'Course not," Sera snorted as she gave him a look. "I just talk to people and listen, yeah?"

"Something that makes Jennies' famous," Asaara mused and Sera grinned at her.


	53. Chapter 53

Grace wheezed as she limped through the thickly packed snow, ribs screaming at her in way that told her they were at least heavily bruised and at most likely fractured.

Stupid, she thought to herself furiously as she kept heading where she thought the flare had been sent up from.

She had been so stupid, all that talk about an Elder One and his plans and all that shit and she completely forgot it in the aftermath of Redcliffe and then closing the Breach—that had really pissed him off—which only came back to bite her on the arse.

So of course he came during the perhaps premature celebration, and of course he somehow had Templars on red-lyrium, and of course he had Archdemon dragon at his beck and call. And if that wasn't enough, he was a Magister—not just a Magister, he was one of _the_ Magisters that still tainted Tevinter image—and was a darkspawn to top it all off.

Brilliant, just what Grace needed.

All her half-dreamed thoughts of just closing up the last of the tears and then heading home was gone, grounded into dust under the massive clawed feet of a corrupt dragon.

She couldn't go home, not now he had made it obvious that he wanted to destroy her for 'making a mockery of his work'. Her family was in enough danger without bringing a darkspawn Magister on their heads just because she was homesick and wanted to go home.

She had to kill him, had to find a way to kill him as it seemed dropping a mountain on him hadn't worked because of his pet dragon.

She would need help.

The last thing Kiara Cadash had given her before her death in that warped future weighed heavily in her pocket.

As soon as they were set up somewhere else, somewhere safe—like hell she was going to die out here, she had survived the Conclave, survived Cassandra, survived the warped Future, she was going to survive this—she would send out the call that Kiara Cadash would not be able to ignore.

She would need a woman like her on her side, Grace knew.

* * *

Asalsa worked quietly, mending broken bones and encouraging skin to regrow while doping those too-far gone with pain-potions—they couldn't save them, but they could let them dead with relative peace, the Head Surgeon said grimly, pushing the bottles into her hands.

The able-bodied soldiers prowled around the camp, hands fixed on the handles of their swords and eyes weary and wary as they looked around.

Asalsa knew her brother was with them as well as Iron Bull and some of his Chargers—Krem, Grimm, Skinner and Rocky—as well as Blackwall while the rest of the Charges—Dalish and Stitches—helped with the Healers and Surgeons—both groups pointedly ignoring when Dalish's hands glowed at certain points as she treated her share of patients—and Asaara had taken command of a number of 'rogues' and hunters that had pledge their blade to the Inquisition—it wasn't surprising that most of them were made up by Lelianna's people—and setting up traps and sentries around the camp.

Sera was Asaara's lieutenant in a way, standing to Asaara's right at times and other times going around and checking in on people while muttering about bees and fire.

While Vivienne and Solas knew quite a bit of healing magic between them, Dorian hadn't had any training in that branch—not that that stopped him from helping as he kept all the Healers and mages who had some training topped up with Lyrium potions. Something that made the Templars amongst them jumpy as they could almost physically feel the magic brewing around the mages.

Banal'ras had irritably pulled himself up from a cot and was limping heavily around the camp, taking notes on who was still alive, who was missing, and who was dead while rallying the civilians to make a tally of supplies and help out as much as possible.

The shell-shocked people came back to themselves somewhat as they fell into mostly familiar tasks, soup was soon bubbling over fires and servants darted through the hastily made camp—taking messages, checking on supplies, suppling people with what they needed if possible and later on suppling them with cups filled with soup when the cooks deemed it ready.

Cassandra and Cullen had taken a small group of soldiers with them as they searched for Grace Trevelyan—a woman that had most likely sacrificed herself to save them—though many believed it was a fool's venture as no-one could survive a mountain being dropped on them, not even the Herald of Andraste.

Josephine was calming the few guest that had been with them before the attack on Haven with Lelianna as her guard.

Varric had been sitting shell-shocked before Vala Tabris had taken him to the side to speak with him and both were now out of sight.

"Get a healer!" Cassandra's voice called out before she came into view, Cullen at her side and amazingly holding Grace in his arms.

Suddenly, Asalsa thought the world looked a bit brighter as she rushed towards their Herald.

* * *

Kiara had been having a nice day; she was laying in her soft bed entwined with Morrigan, content and warm.

"You know you have to let me go," Morrigan said, voice filled with amusement and yet her hand stayed entangled with Kiara's own dark hair.

Kiara nuzzled Morrigan's bare stomach with a hum, arms looped around Morrigan's torso.

"I have an important job," Morrigan reminded her with a sharp tug on her hair.

"Yes, I know," Kiara smirked up at her wife. "It's involves staying here and keeping me comfy."

Morrigan scoffed out a laugh as she leaned back against the pillows.

"You are impossible," the mage muttered and the rogue just grinned into Morrigan's stomach.

A sharp knock disturbed them and Kiara groaned.

"Kiara?" it was Saya and something in her voice made Kiara sit up, dark eyes narrowing at the door that separated her from her Qunari sister. "Ravens came from the Inquisition."

"Kiara?" Morrigan sat up, staring at her wife worriedly. "What's wrong?"

For a moment Kiara could only stare at her; how could she describe the sick feeling appearing in her stomach? How could she describe the feeling of dread that had overtaken her? How she could describe almost feeling Death's icy fingers crawling up her spine? How could she tell Morrigan about the almost overwhelming urge to run?

"Kiara," Saya spoke again, still on the other side of the door. "Kiara, it's important."

And Kiara knew that, could tell that from Saya's voice and the way her stomach seized in dread. Whatever was in those letters, she suddenly didn't want to know as she knew it would destroy everything she had now, but she still forced herself up and grabbed a simple robe to cover herself and opened the door.

Saya's face was grim as she handed over one already open envelope and Kiara took it, feeling her heart in her throat at the weigh that wasn't a letter in it, before she looked in the envelope for but a moment before it was slipping from her fingers and she was running.

"Kieran!"

The bracelet she had once so carefully made—one for herself, one for Morrigan and one for Kieran—spilt from the envelope and laid on the floor almost innocently, the light catching on each tear and stain of blood on the woven leather.

Morrigan stared at her son's bracelet for a long moment, stunned and disbelieving, before she followed her wife's footsteps, running through the house and shouting her son's name.

Kiara had been having nice day. Before the ravens came.

* * *

Kiara laid one hand on Kieran's dark head that lay on Morrigan's shoulder and met her wife's golden eyes.

Terror, rage and determination reflected back at her, mirroring her own gaze.

"Kill them," Morrigan demanded lowly, fiercely as she held their sleeping son gently. "Kill everyone that would threaten our son."

"I will," Kiara vowed, eyes hard and dark.

Corypheus would pay, Kiara would make sure of that. Kiara was considered a one-woman army despite not being a mage or having any 'super-powers' and it was time to remind Thedas why, it was time to remind people why she had been hailed as the Reaper in one life.

No one threatened what was hers and lived for long afterwards.

She turned away from her wife and her sleeping son, and called up the cold rage that had motivated her for so long in her last life and strode towards the door.

She had hoped to stay away, to keep her family safe without getting directing involved with the Inquisition, and now she knew that would fail. That path lead to her son's death and was completely unacceptable.

So she's take the other path, the path of danger and conflict. It was a path that she was more suited to, she had been fighting since she woke up in a clear-walled cell and it was foolish to think she didn't have to keep fighting now.

She had been naïve, foolish, and Kieran almost paid the price for that. She should have known better, she did know better, and she had ignored all her teachings—everyone is a threat, an enemy, that you will have to take down to protect what's important to you, Bucky's voice echoed in her head followed by Logan's, protect what you love with everything you have or you'll end up losing it—and almost cost her son his life.

No more would she stay passive, no more would she let fear rule her. Kiara had been taught to fight, to keep fighting till all the threats were down, and what had she been doing? Cowering away, ignoring everything, and hoping people didn't fuck up without her. Bucky would be ashamed of her, Logan would be ashamed of her, Alex and Erik too. Fuck, she was ashamed of how she had been acting.

No more. She was done being a coward and she would show Thedas just what she was, deep under all her kinder emotions, Kiara was just a monster, a killer, and this monster would show the world just how monstrous she could become when protecting one of hers.

The Companions were joining this little war and they were baying for blood.

* * *

**AN: So sorry it took so long, but I've been unwell and have been struggling a lot with this chapter. I'm going to attempt to wrap this fic up soon and maybe taking a bit of a break before heading into my next world which will be Harry Potter.**

**I'm thinking of changing it up from what I had written last time though some things will stay the same. **

**Sorry, it's taking so long, but being ill, having writer's block and a mind that annoyingly keeps wandering onto over stories is making this hard. I hope you like this small chapter. **


	54. Chapter 54

Grace Trevelyan wasn't surprised to see Marian Hawke, she had a feeling that Varric actually knew where she was or at least knew how to get in contact with her if he needed to.

Her lover, Fenris, was leaning against the wall a little away from Marian—letting them to have the illusion of privacy while still keeping his keen green eyes focused on his infamous and famous lover, ready to leap to her side and fight with her.

Blue eyes glanced at her, staring at her steadily, and Grace didn't falter as she leaned next to Marian Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.

Lelianna was right, Grace inwardly mused, Cassandra may very well kill Varric for this.

* * *

Vala Tabris was eighteen when she first killed someone, eighteen when she did her first massacre, eighteen when she stood in her bloody wedding dress and waited for the guards to take her to her death and she was eighteen when Kiara Cadash swept in and saved her life by claiming it as her own.

In the thirteen odd years since that day, Kiara Cadash had gone from her saviour and leader to her sister and leader.

Vala had been by her side for years, had fought beside her and had been trained by her—training that still made her muscles burn and her stomach clench in remembrance. She had seen Kiara do many things, but never in all these years of knowing her had Vala known Kiara to contact the whole of the Companions with a declaration of war.

Even during the Blight, Ellana had told her how the Ferelden Companions had been contacted to fight—though most were already fighting against the Darkspawn.

As she stared at the simple slip of paper, Kiara's declaration written in her clear and bold writing, a thrill of sorts went through—two parts fear and one-part expectation—her.

War had been declared.

* * *

When one thought of the Companions, one thought of Kiara, of Malika, of Saya, of Elion, of Ellana and more recently of Vala, Faren and Zevran or even Shale, but they were not all of the Companions by a long shot.

Kiara had known that while a smaller group was easier to manage, sometimes greater numbers were needed and she had created the Companions' Captains, men and women that she had trained and who she knew would remain loyal to her.

Each captain built their own inner circle of Companions, some choosing from the circle one to be another captain and that new captain would leave and settle somewhere else and built up their own circle and on and on it could go—all captains sent reports to Kiara, all captains ultimately answered to her.

Kiara had a hawk or raven for each one, and before she left her home, her wife and son, she unleashed her flock with a message.

War was being declared all over Thedas, those that allied themselves with Corypheus were declared enemies of the Companions and the Companions had no mercy when it came to their enemies.

* * *

"Eleanor!" Duncan shouted as he rushed towards his darker haired twin as the once-servant attempted to kill the young Princess.

He never had a chance, an arm snaked around his throat, pulling the servant back into a chest and a blade slashed his throat open without hesitation.

Eleanor cried out when her attacker's blood sprayed on her face, stumbling back into her brother's arms as the heavy boots of her parents' men began to echo down the hall.

Their saviour stood before them, another once-servant this time a woman, and she stared dispassionately down at the gurgling and gasping man.

"Surrender your weapon!" Aunt Melima snarled, arrow pointed straight at the face of the woman and their saviour slowly placed her dagger down and stepped away.

"I am a member of the Companions," the woman declared, raising her hands and letting a thick leather cuff to be seen. "My orders are to protect the Royal Family."

Duncan stared at the cuff, black leather with a red snarling hound—it was the crest of his Aunt Kiara's group, Duncan would never forget that even if it had been a few years since Aunt Kiara visited.

Melima frowned, easing the tension in her bow just slightly.

"What has happened to make the Companions reveal themselves now?" she asked and Duncan realised his aunt and mother's guard was probably aware of a number of Companions acting as servants and such in the castle.

"War has been declared, Commander," the woman replied. "And we are baying for blood of our enemies, the enemy of all of Thedas."

"The King must know of this," Melima finally declared as she grudgingly put her bow down and waved her men down.

"You may wish to send men to the second kitchen," the woman stated and Melima looked at her very sharply. "It seems this man wasn't alone, a small group of Venatori were plotting to poison the royal family."

* * *

Shade was a member of the Inquisition, under the command of Sister Nightingale, and had been tracking a group of Red Templars for almost a week. He had been slowly gathering more information about them and watching them, sending information back to Sister Nightingale.

He was about to back away and meet up with other scouts when the world erupted in arrows and magic.

He held his breath and waited till it cleared and saw the Templars dead and a group of people examining their bodies.

Each of these new people were dressed in black armour with a snarling red hound somewhere on their armour. The Companions had entered the conflict, Shade quietly realised, and it seemed like they were on their side—or at least against Corypheus and his Red Templars.

Sister Nightingale must be informed of this, he thought as he slowly eased himself away from the clearing, the dead and the Companions.

* * *

Marian Hawke had first wanted to head to Crestwood as soon as possible, but then she heard that Kiara Cadash was leading her Companions to Skyhold.

Despite the years that had passed since they last saw each other, Marian still held a fear of the older woman which wasn't tempered by friendship like Varric's was and frankly didn't trust Kiara enough not to be there for the Inquisitor.

Marian may doubt that Kiara was coming to kill the Inquisitor—she wasn't a stupid woman; she'd have never declared she was coming if she wanted to kill Grace—but she didn't wholly trust that Kiara had come with solely good intentions nor because it was the right thing to do.

Kiara Cadash had been content to stay out of this fight, like she had been content to leave Kirkwall with the knowledge that there was something wrong with Anders, so what had changed? What had caused Kiara Cadash to stir herself from her watch and enter the war?

Marian didn't know and that worried her, made her wary because part of her—under the part of her that blamed Anders, that blamed herself—blamed Kiara for what happened in Kirkwall and she didn't want to see something like that ever again.

* * *

When Grace Trevelyan had met Kiara Cadash, the older woman was angry and bitter as she talked to her.

That angry bitterness had nothing to the rage that was cloaked around this Kiara Cadash walking up the aisle of her great hall. Dark eyes—black like volcanic rock, no reddish tint to them—were narrowed firmly on her seated form, dark hair was pulled back in thick braids and then a high-horse tail.

Golden healthy and scarred skin clung to firm muscle, black metal and leather armour covered her tall and slender form, a snarling red hound glared off her chest, proclaiming proudly her status as a Companion—and she wasn't just a Companion, she was The Companion.

Two longswords were sheathed at her waist, a quiver of arrows and a strong and _bladed_ bow attached to it was slung across her back. A metal chain was wrapped around her waist like a belt and would have looked just like a fashion statement if it wasn't for sickle it had on the end that swung freely by her side, not hindering her access to her longsword—in short, Kiara Cadash was dressed and armed for war.

The Qunari, Saya, walked just behind and to the left hand of Kiara Cadash, dressed in her own black leather and metal armour of the Companions and her bladed staff strapped to her back.

Malika Cadash, Kiara's dwarven adoptive sister, walked on the right side of Kiara. Two swords were sheathed at waist and two war-axes were strapped across her back. Beside Malika and just behind her was her Warden lover, Faren Brosca, who wore the same black armour as the other Companions but with a red griffon rearing on his chest, a nod to his background as a Warden.

Behind them were the three elves, the mage Ellana flanked by her archer twin brother, Elion, and the ex-Crow assassin Zevran and behind that was the hulking form of Shale Cadash, a golem with specially made black gauntlets with the Companion's snarling red hound imprinted on them.

Grace Trevelyan, surrounded by her most trusted friends and companions, felt a chill go down her spine as she watched the display of pure power that prowled towards her.

They stopped at the dais and Kiara Cadash stared up at her with narrowed eyes.

Surprisingly, it was her dwarven sister that broke the silence.

"You guys have your own pissing tavern?" Malika sounded both envious and impressed. "How's your supply?"

"Enough to even get you drunk a dozen times," Ataash Adaar spoke up with a grin and Malika grinned at the Qunari.

"Shit, I didn't know you were mixed up in this mess," Malika stated easily and bluntly, and Asaara spoke up next, a light grimace on her face.

"We had the bad luck to be employed by the Divine and the Inquisition kindly asked us to stay on,"

"We thought you'd be smart enough to keep out of this shit-storm," Ataash commented and Malika jerked her thumb at Elion.

"Bleeding-heart over there convinced Ki to give a helping hand," Malika grunted and Elion rolled his golden eyes before breaking formation.

"Like you haven't been dying to bury your axe in some demons," he stated prowled towards one of the long tables that they had and snatched up an apple and biting into it harshly.

"You should better satisfy your lover, Faren," Zevran said in almost a purr as he walked over to the other male elf, "like I do," he finished just before licking drips of apple juice that was trailing down Elion's chin.

"You know, I think I had a dream like this once," Dorian murmured from beside her and Grace spared him a glance of amusement which deepen when she noticed his own golden brown eyes were focused solely on the two male elves. "Do you think— "

It was Ellana's pointed clearing of throat that cut off Dorian's question, but Grace could guess the train of thought of her many-times removed cousin, and Grace looked to the elven mage to see her glaring at her brother and his lover making Zevran step back with a cheeky smirk on his lips and Elion flushed under his golden tattoos.

"We are here to discuss the terms of alliance," Ellana spoke sternly. "Not witness what Zev considered foreplay."

"If you think that's foreplay, my dear Ellana," Zev began smug with that cheeky smirk on his face when Kiara finally broke her silence.

"Enough,"

Her voice wasn't raised, it wasn't a shout nor was it sharply spoken, and yet Zevran flinched slightly like she had, brown eyes wary as he watched his leader while the rest of the Companions—even Vala beside Lelianna—stilled and straightened.

Kiara Cadash took a single, strong and silence step forward and stared at her with a mild set to her face which did nothing to take away the coldness of her gaze or the almost physical weight of the rage surrounding her.

"You sent me something," she began. "Something important to me, explain how you got it."

It was a demand, not a request, and Grace caught the sight of at least Cassandra and Cullen bristling on her behalf.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Grace countered calmly and Kiara barred her teeth in what Grace supposed was meant to be a grin.

"Try me," she dared.

So Grace Trevelyan dared to speak the impossible truth.


	55. Chapter 55

Malika Cadash wanted to call bullshit, wanted to tell the Inquisitor—Herald of Andraste, Grace Trevelyan, what-fucking-ever—that she was obviously Fade-addled and they didn't join up with crazy people and they'd deal with the Venatori and Red Templars and such on their own.

But she didn't, she bit her tongue and kept her silence as she listened to the utter impossible bullshit that fell from Trevelyan's lips—magic could do a lot of crazy things, but time-travel? Impossible.

Only because of Kiara, only because of her sister, did Malika keep her silence because Kiara looked like she actually believed Trevelyan, you know if you could actually see it under the utter rage that she was in.

Malika could see it in the utter stillness that Kiara held herself in, could see it in the way that Kiara's dark narrowed gaze didn't once flicker away from Trevelyan, could see it in how she had straightened her back and seemed taller as she removed herself from her usual slump.

Of course, part of that—perhaps almost all of that—could also because of how enraged she was.

Malika had seen Kiara in many states over the years, but she had never seen Kiara this enraged before, nor had she seen Saya not attempt to cool Kiara's rage.

No, their Qunari sister just stood just behind her shoulder, ash eyes hard and cold as she also stared at Trevelyan.

Malika scowled, her stomach twisting, as she realised exactly who has pissed Kiara off to such a degree and she glared hard at Trevelyan.

What the fuck had she done to make Kiara this pissed off? And why exactly had Kiara decided they should help her?

Perhaps, Malika should have been hurt at the fact that Kiara was obviously keeping something from her—like she had once been hurt because of the secret of Morrigan—but she had spent too many years beside Kiara to not understand her and knew she was only keeping it from her, and the others, because they didn't have the same calm that Saya and Kiara had.

That would seem a stupid thought to others, especially when Kiara was cloaked in her rage, but Kiara hadn't started shouting, hadn't lashed out at anyone, and kept her usual mild look on her face—even if her eyes ruined her calm look.

Malika would be shouting, lashing out, if she had some of the rage that Kiara was obviously feeling and despite whatever Trevelyan had done—because she had to do something to be faced with such rage from Kiara—Kiara still wanted this alliance for some reason that Malika couldn't understand.

To distract herself from her thoughts, she glanced over to where Ellana stood, frowning as she listened and Malika knew the elf was inching to argue against Trevelyan's crazy story or research it or both before she glanced over to the two elven lovers.

Elion was scowling as he listened, harshly biting into the apple he had nicked, while Zevran seemed blind and deaf to everything that wasn't Kiara, his golden eyes—a shade browner than the elven twins' own golden eyes—were focused solely on Kiara and his body still.

No surprise really, considering it had been his ex-nest Kiara and Saya had visited so many years ago—Kiara always knew how to leave an impression, she almost wanted to snigger.

She glanced at Faren last, a glance more concerned than the other glances, and noticed the lack of tension on his face—something she had gotten uncomfortably used to as the Calling played with his mind—though he was frowning, his was more thoughtful as he listened while his dark eyes scanned the group that the Inquisitor had the brains to surround herself with before she met with Kiara considering her volatile mood.

Malika also glanced around and did the same, noting again the Adaar siblings that sat with a short-haired female elf and near The Iron Bull and his second, Krem.

Vala stood on the dais with Lelianna, close to the Inquisitor though not as close as the Seeker and the male human mage that had been leering at Zev's and Eli's display earlier. A third elf, one from Eli and Ella's old clan, leaned heavily against the wall behind them, a brace keeping one of his legs straight and helping support his weight most likely—he had been heading to the Conclave, she remembered, and must have been caught it whatever the shit went on up there.

The Templar—or she supposed ex-Templar now—Cullen stood just beside the Seeker, and wasn't it a surprise to see him there? She had honestly expected him to be back in Kirkwall, trying to clean up Meredith and Ander's mess.

She idly wondered if Leona had known her ex had been in the same country as her for the first time in over a decade?

Marian Hawke and her lover, Fenris, were with Varric—the other dwarf frowning as he glanced anxiously between his Inquisitor and his old friend. Marian's blue eyes were focused on Kiara, the same with her lover's, they understood the biggest threat in the room despite the numbers being against her was still Kiara.

If she really wanted to, Malika doubted that Kiara would concern herself about the others if she really wanted to maim or outright kill the Inquisitor. But despite the utter rage that surrounded her, the obvious dislike that Kiara held the younger woman in, Kiara didn't actually seem to want to maim or kill her for some reason that Malika didn't know yet.

Let's see who else Trevelyan had on her side, Malika mused as her gaze slid across the Ambassador, the bald elf mage, the female human mage and what looked like a Grey Warden judging by the armour.

Now that was interesting, a Warden involving themselves with such a movement as the Inquisition? Especially so soon after what happened in Ferelden and the split between the Ferelden's Wardens and everywhere else's Wardens? It was interesting, unsuspected, and made Malika weary—she didn't trust any Warden that wasn't connected firmly to the Fereldan Wardens.

She would have to keep an eye on this Warden.

* * *

Zevran had only seen Kiara in almost such a state as she was now in once before and that was when her fear and her rage battled. Kiara's rage didn't have any fear to battle this time, it was full on rage that surrounded her, and Zevran couldn't really be blamed that his old weariness, his old fear, was coming back when he watched Kiara.

Really who could blame him when her rage brings back memories of Redcliffe, of flaming swords and explosions, of the walking dead? That her rage brought back memories of the Deeproads, of dark twisting tunnels and caverns, of corrupt and stale air, of chittering spiders and the gurgles the Darkspawn make as they drown in their own blood? And memories of Denerim, of broken gates, fierce dark eyes, flaming swords stabbing down and through, the cries of darkspawn and the roar of the Archdemon overhead.

Zev honestly liked Kiara—something he didn't think would happen when he was first placed under her care—but he was also honestly afraid of her because he knew what she could do and didn't have the pure certainty that the other Companions had that she would never turn her anger, her cruelty, on to him.

Not when he remembered the smile that curled her lips as faces paled and heads rolled across the floor, not when he can remember flaming swords stabbing down into the throat of an ogre darkspawn as it fell back, not when he can remember blades sinking through hard scale as a dragon roars, not when he can remember a sharp blade sinking into a dwarf's eye as Kiara watched satisfied as the dwarven woman fell dead.

* * *

Kieran's bloodstained bracelet felt like icy iron clamped around her wrist, a bitter reminder of failure—hers and Grace Trevelyan's.

Grace Trevelyan sat on her throne, her eyes watching her wearily, a shade of doubt pulling at her lips as Kiara chose to remain silent, guilt and grief teased at the corners of her eyes and the lines on her forehead.

Kiara found herself disappointed by the Inquisitor, perhaps because of the thoughtless and cruel summoning that the younger woman sent her, and yet still found it in her to believe this young woman could actually fix the latest fuck up Thedas was facing.

There was something about the Inquisitor, about Grace Trevelyan, that made Kiara dislike her in a way that she had never disliked the other fabled heroes she knew would save the world and change it.

Perhaps because of her part in showing how Kiara would have failed to protect her son, something that was very possible.

Kiara knew as she stared at Grace Trevelyan that no matter what, she would never take or like the other woman—not like she had liked the Wardens, not the way she had been taken by Marian Hawke's loyalty and single-mindedness when it came to protecting her family and friends.

Kiara also knew that it would be so easy for Kiara to simply kill her, to reach out and end her life, uncaring that she was dooming Thedas to Corypheus, and perhaps she would have, would have come at the Inquisitor from the shadows if the bracelet wasn't tied tight around her wrist, if the bracelet wasn't a silent reminder of why she was even here.

Kieran.

It was for Kieran, she was here. It was for Kieran; she had entered this battle. It would be in Kieran's name that she would commit her massacres and slaughters. It was because of Kieran, that Kiara would not raise a hand against the only woman that could heal the wounds in the Fade and defeat Corypheus.

Kiara idly wondered if Grace Trevelyan would ever be aware how close she came to dying at her hands before dismissing the thought as her dwarven sister decided to break the silence.

"Bullshit," the tone was disbelieving, but Kiara knew her sister and knew Malika was giving her time to gather herself, to control herself and her rage, and she dearly loved her for the time she had given her as Malika called the Inquisitor out on a story none of them should believe and yet they all did.

"I believe her," Kiara spoke up after a moment, a moment filled with Cassandra snarling defensively back at Malika and Malika immediately went into mutters like she couldn't believe that Kiara actually bought the Inquisitor's crazy—she almost wanted to smile.

"Oh," Dorian Pavus smiled, his amber eyes cool as he looked down at them. "You believe her—without a hint of surprise, may I add? —when your dwarf friend doesn't? Why is that?"

Kiara smiled, her smile as sharp of her blades, and respected him for not even flinching under it and her narrow eyes—something some men twice his age couldn't do.

"I've seen a lot of things in my life, it's rare I find something to surprise me these days," her smile became a touch sharper as she continued. "And my dwarven_ sister_ has no reason to trust your Inquisitor on her word however she has all the reason to believe my word."

"Are you calling the Inquisitor a liar?" Cassandra Pentaghast asked coldly, stepping forward with her hand close by the mean looking morning-star she wore at her waist making both Saya and Malika bristle and draw even closer to her.

"No," Kiara denied, easily. "Your Inquisitor has too open of a face to be a liar."

"You believe me?" Trevelyan's words were whispered but heard by all, doubt and relief warring on her expressive face—well expressive for a noble, Kiara mentally noted.

"Yes," Kiara answered shortly causing Cassandra to scowl but both Trevelyan and Dorian seemed to expect it from her.

"So you'll join us?" Dorian pressed, amber eyes narrow.

"It depends," Kiara shrugged, a loose and fluid movement.

"On what?" Cassandra nearly hissed between gritted teeth.

"If you can convince me to," Kiara stared straight at Trevelyan and barred her teeth in what could loosely be called a smile but was truly more of a snarl. "You need us more than we need to, so convince, tell me why I should ally myself with you and yours? Especially with what you sent me."

"What do you mean?" Trevelyan was honestly confused and Kiara knew her other self—her future self—had never told Grace Trevelyan just who the bracelet belonged to.

Some people would have forgiven Grace Trevelyan her ignorance, would have slowly doused their anger, and perhaps start over, but Kiara wasn't most people.

She had been beaten down and built back up, she was missing pieces and was stitched back together with pain and rage, she was almost drowning in the blood she had spilled over the years she had lived and forgiveness had been something she had forgotten along with guilt, compassion, mercy and moderation.

She was a woman that learnt to torture without flinching, had gone through enough torture that she almost forgotten how to cry and scream in pain.

She was a woman that carved feathers into heads of her would-be assassins and hand-delivered them to their superiors just to mock them.

She was a woman that planned for King Cailan's death and to deal with Loghain before it even happened.

She was the woman who was not going to stir herself to involve herself in this Inquisition and latest crisis and only did for her son.

Forgiveness was not something she had in her anymore and she wouldn't give it to the woman who sent her the sign that she would fail to protect her family, protect her son.

"You didn't even wonder whose bracelet you sent me?" Kiara asked and caught the frown of confusion appearing on Vala's face and the look of slowly dawning horror on Varric's from the corner of her eyes. "Did you not care as long as I came and join you? Is that it? Well let me enlighten you, the bracelet you sent—bloody and torn—is the bracelet is made for my son."

"Fuck," Varric hissed out as the blood drained from Grace Trevelyan's face as she stared at the unforgiving face of Kiara Cadash, eyes so cold they burned as they stared up at her.


	56. Chapter 56

Dorian almost wanted to close his eyes and weep—or at least despair—at the dangerous blunder his cousin had made—and she was his cousin, was his family, no matter how far removed they were, and Dorian found he liked having family that accepted him wholly (the look on the Revered Mother's face when Grace had made their family connection known, just made it all the sweeter)—when dealing with Kiara Cadash.

The Companions around the room stilled and straightened even the Companion they had accepted in their midst stilled as the damning words rang through the air.

Vala Tabris actually took a step back from where she was standing near Grace's throne, her face twisting with rage, grief and distrust before she was halted by Lelianna's hand wrapping securely around her wrist.

Eyes were drawn towards the elf, but Dorian kept his eyes on the Spy-mistress as she kept her lips pressed tightly.

For the first time since he had met her, Dorian doubted Lelianna, and purposely sat on Grace's armrest so he was between Lelianna and Grace—ignoring Cassandra's look as he did—because while Lelianna may have been their spy-mistress, she was still closely tied with the Companions, close enough for her to know the boy and close enough for her to react harshly at the slightest thought of his death.

Malika Cadash—Kiara's dwarven sister, she had said pointedly—had taken a single step forward before her lover was locking his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest to stop her from turning this meeting into a battle.

She snarled, steel eyes hard and unrelenting, seething as she glared at Grace as if Grace was the threat, as if Grace was the reason in one future her nephew was dead.

For not being blood-related, the sisters were remarkably alike, Dorian thought back to Kiara Cadash's words of blame when they had first met in that hellish future.

"How the fuck did you get that?" Elion Lavellan spoke harshly, the apple he had been eating falling to the ground forgotten as he prowled forward with his lover just behind him. "Was it meant to be a threat?"

"Wasn't you listening brother?" Ellana Lavellan, known as the healer of their group and someone Dorian had expected to be kind, almost sneered as she took a step forward—obviously his early thought was wrong, she wasn't kind when one of her own was threatened. "She went to the future and brought it back."

"Should we squash her?" the deep and rumbling voice of the Golem reminded them of her presence at the back. "Treat her like those flying beasts?"

"Unfortunately," Zevran sighed as he purposely draped himself over his lover, making Elion pause under his weigh and stop him causing more tension in the room with his obvious anger and his almost prowling steps coming closer. "Kiara is here for an alliance, squashing their leader would most likely dampen that effort."

"No shit," Sera actually snorted from her place boxed in by the Adaar siblings.

"Perhaps we should cease all this hostile?" Josephine spoke up, the grip she had on her clipboard was tight.

"She sent us the bracelet of our nephew!" Malika accused loudly.

"And despite that, your leader thought it best to meet with her to discuss an alliance," Josephine retorted with a hint of steel in her voice.

Malika scowled heavily and Dorian felt Grace finally gather herself—she must have been mortified after her lapse of control—and Dorian almost smiled as he felt her straighten beside him and knew without looking that hard mask had reformed on her face.

He did smile when he caught the cold approval that flirted over Kiara's face and the slightest curl of her upper-lip she gave as she caught his smile was more impressive than any sneer or snarl he had ever seen in his life—he wondered if she gave lessons on how to be simply terrifying to people? It would be a useful skill to have.

"You're asking me to convince you," Grace repeated, voice strong, and Kiara inclined her head. "But I don't need to."

The Companions hissed in outrage while their Leader simply waited.

"You have come here, despite the mistake I've made, and you have come for this alliance," Grace's tone was confident. "You don't like me and I don't find myself liking you that much, but you know we have to work together to stop the future I witnessed and the future of your son doesn't happen.

You need me to seal the Breaches, to battle Corypheus, and I need you to make sure I don't—what was the words your other self said? Oh yes—fuck things up as well as deal with Corypheus' allies—something I know you have already started from report Sister Nightingale has given me in the last few weeks. So I ask, do I really have to waste our time trying to convince you when you are already convinced?"

"I may not like you, but I may perhaps come to respect you—a little bit at least," Kiara finally declared and Dorian could almost feel the relief coming of his cousin. "Know this, if my son dies, I will blame you and I will kill you."

Grace didn't even flinch as Cassandra snarled and Cullen tensed at the threat.

"I wouldn't expect anything else," Grace replied calmly and truthfully neither did Dorian.

"Good," Kiara Cadash's smile was cold as she looked at them. "Then my Companions and I will go and have a drink at your lovely tavern while you busy yourself setting up our rooms."

Then she turned her back on them, like she hadn't just ordered the Inquisitor like some servant, and began to leave the Hall with her Companions lingering for a moment before following her—all accept the Golem who turned as soon as Kiara did—and Vala left her place beside Lelianna to join them as they left the Inquisition in silence.

"Well that could have been worse," was Varric's only statement after the heavy doors closed behind them.

"And how could that have been worse?" Cassandra snapped.

"Well, she could have killed someone," Ataash shrugged as he answered Cassandra's question. "I'm still surprised she didn't at least maim someone."

"Kiara's mellowed a bit from her younger days," Iron Bull agreed easily and Dorian grimaced, if that's what they called mellow then he was glad he hadn't meet her in her 'younger' days.

* * *

Kiara was almost surprised when it was Solas who was the first to approach her that night.

He had entered the tavern calmly and made his way to where she sat alone—Malika was currently challenging the Chargers to a drinking contest with Faren next to her making sure she didn't start a fight, a cluster of mages had formed around Shale and she endured their attention and curiosity with a bored air, Zev and Elion had disappeared somewhere, Saya had been dragged off with Ellana to see to the library though Kiara expected she'd be back soon and Vala had gone off in search of Lelianna to clear the air between them—and slid in to the seat across from her.

She raised a brow at him as she idly took a sip of her ale.

"You were rather cruel with our Inquisitor," Solas began, his tone almost pleasant.

"Cruel?" she repeated in almost surprise making Solas' eyes narrow slightly. "I thought I was rather kind to her."

"Kind?" Solas repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," Kiara leaned back and crossed her legs. "I didn't point out her mistakes, I didn't play on her insecurity nor did I attempt to shatter the trust between the Inquisitor and her main group. I also didn't attempt to maim nor did I kill anyone."

"You think that was kind?" he asked her, still stuck in disbelief. "Kindness must not come easy to you then."

"Perhaps it did once," she hummed. "I can't really remember."

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow in question and Kiara could feel a spark of anger in her chest though she didn't show it.

"Are you trying to find out my secrets?" she asked almost idly and he almost smirked.

"And if I am?" he asked and Kiara thought his name suited him well, he was full of hubris after all.

"Then I would tell you I'd find out all your secrets," she warned and he was confident, arrogant, believing no one knew his secrets, that no one knew the title he had once been given and that no one would know his future goals.

"And if I tell you I have no secrets?"

"I'd call you a liar, everyone has secrets. Weather they admit to them or not,"

Kiara hated traitors, she disliked liars though she was one, and she despised those that would threaten her Kieran's future and Solas was all those things.

He lied to the Inquisitor and Inquisition, he would betray them and leave to build his own group to restore a way of life and a culture that had been dead for centuries and this would threaten Kieran's future.

It was unacceptable, something she couldn't allow, and she would admit that she was too emotional still, still too enraged to bite her tongue and just watch him.

"My mother-in-law is called Flemeth," she began, eyes focused on him. "You knew her once though she had a different name and you were given one."

His eyes narrowed and she smiled, cold and sharp, at him.

"Oh do not worry, I will not tell the Inquisitor who you are. We both know who'd she would believe as you did save her life—for now anyway."

His fists clenched and he stared at her with a hint of the Dread Wolf in his grey gaze.

"I just want to remind you, I'll kill anyone who threatens my son's happiness, his safety," she finished as he sat tensed before her.

"I see," he began, eyes focused on hers. "I'll leave for the night."

"Goodnight, Solas," she replied as he stood and left.

It had been reckless, Natasha, Clint and Erik would be ashamed of her and Coulson would be shaking his head in disbelief.

But not as reckless as Solas would believe her to be, she thought as she met the single dark grey orb of Iron Bull sat shadowed by the stairs, who tilted his mug at her in acknowledgement and reassurance, as Saya placed her hands on her shoulders as she left the shadows created by the fireplace.

She may have said she wouldn't tell Grace Trevelyan, but she said nothing about Iron Bull or Saya. Both Qunari would keep their eyes on Solas, listening, watching, waiting.

She had let someone know he wasn't who and what he was saying he was and that was her good deed for the Inquisition.

Now she could focus on other important things like slaughtering all of Corypheus' people.

* * *

**AN: Sorry it's so short, but I've been struggling on this chapter—something you can probably tell—and unfortunately we are coming towards the end of this story and this life.**

**But her new life is on the horizon and will be something completely new so I hope you are ready. **

**Happy New Year my faithful readers and I hope 2017 comes without the severe writer's block that I've been suffering.**

**Hope you have enjoyed this short chapter. **


	57. Chapter 57

The rooms that were assigned them were above the garden, the air was still a bit stale, but there was no draft and clean linen on the simple beds and the Companions had slept in worse rooms—hell some of them had slept in the Deeproads.

It was two to each room though for now Saya and Ellana was sharing with Kiara, it was for each of their piece of minds while Shale had decided to play guard outside.

"Found anything?" Kiara called to where Ellana was sitting at the table covered with books she had brought from the library and the collection of books she had brought from home.

"The only darkspawn that is able to come back from the dead are Archdemons," Ellana began as she frowned down at the page she was currently reading. "But Corypheus isn't an Archdemon."

"But he's no simple darkspawn," Saya added, long fingers plaiting her hair. "He claims to be one of the first."

"Perhaps that's what makes him so powerful?" Ellana questioned softly.

"Faren had already sent birds to Denerim and Orzammar," Kiara spoke up as she cleaned and sharpened her blades. "He thinks Corypheus will be what is needed for Sereda to leave her self-imposed exile."

After she had received word of what Anders had done in Kirkwall—the man she had personally brought into the Wardens—Sereda been horrified and had gathered Nathaniel and Sigrun before leaving Oghern and Carver Hawke in charge of the Keep and left for the Deeproads to fight beside the Legion of the Dead in some form of penance.

When Faren had gotten word that she had left Oghern in charge, he had simply said Anders must have really fucked her up for her to actually consider leaving Oghern in charge to be a good idea—surprisingly, Oghern took to it well with Carver's help.

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to come face to face with another talking Darkspawn," Ellana sighed.

"She won't allow this one a free passage," Saya spoke firmly.

"No, she won't," Ellana agreed before glancing over her shoulder at Kiara. "Has anyone heard anything about the Architect?"

"No, whatever _that_ darkspawn is doing, we do not know," Kiara frowned down at the blade, perhaps she should have go with Sereda to the Keep, perhaps she could have dealt with the Architect instead of leaving him be to do whatever. "But we do know what Corypheus is doing, so we should focus on him."

Sereda, when confronted by him, had made the most logical choice and let him leave. It was bad enough that she was about to face a Broodmother with some actual intelligence, she couldn't have expected to win after fighting the Architect and an ex-Silent Sister/ex-Warden especially with her forces divided to protect the Keep and Amaranthine from armies of Darkspawn while she took down this Broodmother.

Perhaps Kiara should have gone, taken Saya, Malika, Elion and Ellana, and dealt with the Architect, but Kieran wasn't even born then and she couldn't bring herself to leave Morrigan, not when she knew just how easily Morrigan could die from childbirth.

Kiara loved Thedas, it had become her home in a way that America and such hadn't and in a different way than Charles' mansion. This whole world was her home, where things were simple and not overly complicated by technology—technology she had once not be able to live without—and she could be herself and while some would scorn her and her choices, some would be indifferent and the others would be a bit like her.

Her love for Thedas didn't make her ignorant of that fact how easily people here could die. She had been lucky so far, none of those she loved, that she held close, had died apart of Logan and she had always known that her faithful hound would die long before her. Had they come close? Yes, too close at times but they had pulled through in the end, and Kiara knew she was damn lucky.

Luck wasn't something she connected with her often and she wondered how this unlikely luck would last.

* * *

It had been over a week and they were still at Skyhold, Malika scowled.

It wasn't that she disliked Skyhold, she didn't. Honestly, she wished they had claimed this place first or at least had something like this during the Blight—it would have made things so much easier.

She just didn't like being near the Inquisitor—inconsiderate bitch, she was, and nobody was going to change Malika's opinion of the younger woman—though she had liked getting to know some of her Inquisition forces—Harding was a laugh, Malika almost wanted to poach her for the Companions but the other dwarf was too loyal for that, shame really, and Sera was a riot, shame she actually liked the Inquisitor for some reason.

At least she had been able to win some coin off those stupid enough to challenge her at drinking.

Zev had taken to lurking around when he wasn't displaying his love and affection for Elion in public places—if only to see how many people he could make blush.

Ellana had seemingly moved into the library and had struck up a friendship with Dorian—they debated, researched and chatted easily.

Malika had bet Faren that Ellana almost wished that Elion hadn't taken up with Zev as she seemed to like the human mage more than she did the assassin, but unfortunately for her, Zev and Eli had been together for over a decade and still going strong—despite their rather odd beginnings.

She glanced over to where Kiara had propped herself up, waiting for the Inquisitor to come back from wherever she had gone with the Chargers.

She wasn't sure why Kiara was so concerned about this, but she could tell her sister was as she kept an ear out for any news about them returning. Something about this meeting with Qun had her hackles raised up and Malika didn't know why which was annoying her almost as much as being stuck here.

When the Chargers stumbled through the gates, dirty and bloody, but victorious, Malika just caught the slight tension leaking from Kiara's shoulders which made her raise an eyebrow to her sister.

"Perhaps she's not as foolish as I thought," her human sister only muttered in return before she turned and left without waiting for the Inquisitor to return from the Storm Coast.

* * *

The ramparts weren't Kiara's favourite place to be, not when looking over made her feel dizzy and her stomach clench in unease that would have been worse—would have been downright fear—if Clint hadn't been the bastard he was and pulled her with him as he perched high above everything else.

The air was also slightly thinner which didn't help her with her dizziness, but this was where Bull wanted to meet and so she just leaned against the wall and kept her eyes fixed to the courtyard of the Hold instead of peering down at the mountain below.

It would have been worse if there was a big ass moat of water as well as the mountain view, she acknowledged to herself.

Water would always bring this gut-wrenching fear to her, more than heights, because no one had pushed her out of her comfort zone, no one has taken the time to show that water isn't bad and no, they aren't going to shove her head under it, uncaring if she's screaming and choking until she can't breathe, but they are going to let her get used to it.

Clint had pushed her about heights, had pulled her up behind him with one strong hand wrapped around her once dainty wrist. He taught her how to climb, how to perch herself perfectly, and then taught her how to snipe people from such heights with everything from a throwing-knife to a bow-and-arrow. Kiara—Hope as she had been—trusted Clint, had trusted him to make sure she never fell and knew she could count on him.

She had been frightened of heights, but she was down terrified of water because of mother fucking Nazis, and seriously, if she ever landed in their hands again, she was biting her own tongue off—fuck not committing suicide and being stronger than that shit—she had enough of those fuckers to last her the rest of her life-times.

She knew that Bull could tell her mind had wandered by the obvious scuff sound he made with his braced leg, something he didn't normally do, and knew he caught the way her shoulders tensed in slight surprise before relaxing as he leans against her.

"So," he began, calm as ever. "Solas, what do you know?"

"I think the better question is what do you know about him?" she asked in return and he frowned thoughtfully for a moment before he scowled.

"Fuck," he swore as he finally realised how little he actually knew about the elven mage. "How the fuck did I miss that shit?"

"You were too busy keeping an eye of Trevelyan and her choices to bother looking at who she surrounds herself with," she answered though she knew it wouldn't make Bull feel better, not when he realised how much he dropped the ball with Solas.

* * *

There was still too much sand everywhere for Grace's liking—she needed a bath, new clothes and some strong wine—and Dorian was carefully rubbing paste onto her sunburnt face, ears and shoulders as Warden Stroud grimly reported to her Advisors what they had found about the Wardens and their stupid plan to build up a demon army when Banal'ras limped in and declared that a group of Wardens had arrived under the Ferelden Warden Banner—one side of the banner was Warden blue with a silver rearing griffon and the other side was pale yellow with a rearing burnt red Mabari hound.

Warden Commander Sereda Aeducan had stalked in with Warden Nathanial Howe on one side and Warden Sigrun on her other side with a scowl on her scarred face as she glanced around the room—only softening slightly when she saw both Vala and Lelianna and hardening more when catching sight of Stroud.

"So we heard you have a talking darkspawn that you need slaying," Warden Sigrun grinned making her tattoos twist into something almost sinister looking in the candle light.

"That's after we fix the fuck up your branch of Wardens are committing," Sereda bluntly stated as she glared up at Stroud who stiffened and glared back. "Demon Army? Really? When does that ever sound like a good idea?"

"They are terrified," Stroud snapped in defence and Sereda's lips curled into a sneer.

"_We_ were terrified, we spent a year pulling Ferelden together, gaining allies and ending the Blight before it could spread past our boarders," she snapped. "Did they sympathise when they came after it was all said and done? No, they scorned us, scorned and spat on what we had done, and were only happy when we broke away. Do you expect sympathy from me now? For them? For those still jumping to Weisshaupt's tune? Or at least did before they let a mad Tevinter con them into blood-magic and demon-summoning."

"Are we really about to witness a Warden civil war now?" Dorian asked, looking around in disbelief. "In case you have forgotten, we have a Demon Army to stop, an assassin against the Empress to stop, and then to top it all off, we have to kill Corypheus. Perhaps we should focus on those little things for now, yes?"

"Dorian is right," Josephine cleared her throat and looked at her clip-board. "Fortunately we have made progress in gaining an invite to the Empresses' ball in the Winter Palace, unfortunately only Grand Duke Gaspard would extend an invite for us."

"You mean the man who basically started the civil war?" Grace asked in disbelief, because everyone knew who the Grand Duke was. "The man who is Empress Celene's enemy? Well that will definitely make her listen to us."


	58. Chapter 58

Things should have become slightly simpler now that they had Warden-Commander Aeducan with them and an invite to the Winter Palace. That naïve thought of hers had been dashed before the day was out.

If it wasn't Warden-Commander Aeducan and Warden Stroud having heated arguments about what to do with the misled Wardens, then it was Vivienne complaining about the rather plain uniform that Josephine and Cullen had decided on—'what you wear is almost as important, perhaps even more important, than what you say in the game, dear' Vivienne would say before Cullen would sternly cut in with 'we're there to protect the Empress, not play that damnable game' which would make Vivienne look at him with pity, 'you're dealing with the Empress, Commander, which means you'll be playing the game' before she would go on to complain to Grace how the uniform was almost Ferelden in style which made Cullen offended and let to an argument that she had to deal with.

Or Sera whining about why she wasn't allowed to go to the palace—something that stopped soon after Dagna arrived as the elf spent most of her time with Dagna in the Undercroft which eased Grace's headache greatly.

Banal'ras was almost always at her elbow when she finished dealing with such things so he could detail what the Companions were doing—slaughtering the Venatori and Red Templars with a ruthlessness that Banal'ras approved of and made some people queasy—and how the Inquisition forces that were following behind them—setting up a presence and such, making themselves known and being received warmly by people—were doing.

Then there was Bull and the Adaar siblings that were badgering to go with them as visible body-guards and such. Lelianna was considering it, Cullen was almost approving, and Josephine almost fainted as she thought about the trouble they could have get into at the Palace if they decided not to take them and the four Qunari decided to join them anyway.

During all this they had to deal with Dorian's father attempting to trick him into coming home—which didn't turn out well—Bull had to deal with an assassin attempt after the fiasco with the Qun which let to Lelianna having to tighten up security even more and the Inquisition forces finally caught the Mayor of Crestwood and Grace took some delight in sending him back to face Ferelden judgement.

(Reasonable and necessary he may have thought his action to be, Grace couldn't forget the corpses huddled together in those broken homes nor the scratches on the walls in the cave as those that had hoped to find safety ending up drowning instead.)

And she still had to read up on the War of the Lions because it hadn't really affected Grace before, she had been with her family in Ostwick and far from the infighting of Orlais.

It was really a rebellion, Grand Duke Gaspard had become dissatisfied by Empress Celene's rule and rose up to take the throne that should have been his after his uncle, Emperor Florian, had died if it wasn't for Celene outmanoeuvring him and claiming the crown herself through the Council of Heralds despite the fact she was only sixteen.

Grand Duke Gaspard could have rebelled then, could have gone to the Council of Heralds and appealed them like his cousin did and yet he didn't for almost twenty years—and Grace didn't know why.

It was apparently the Empress' diplomatic approach to both the elven uprisings and the bubbling mage rebellion three years ago that finally made Grand Duke Gaspard start his rebellion, his civil war.

That was all she really knew and now she was meant to save the Empress and attempt to bring peace to Orlais despite being a Marcher, despite not knowing much about the war. And it was frustrating because she didn't know enough, couldn't be relied on to make the right decision and yet they were already looking at her to make up her mind.

And Sera wondered why she was seen in the tavern more with Bull.

* * *

The Inquisitor had chosen her companions wisely for this ball, Morrigan acknowledged, though she had brought more with her than either the Grand-Duke or the Empress had expected.

Madame Vivienne was a brilliant choice, she had lived and breathed Orlais high society for most of her life and was well thought of by many, some because of who she was and others for who her lover was and more because of both reasons. Still, Morrigan would keep her distance from the Lady of Iron as Vivienne hadn't been the most pleased that an apostate had been welcomed into Celene's circle while Vivienne was slowly pushed out.

Dorian Pavus was an interesting choice, it was even more interesting that she was publicly claiming him as her cousin. But Morrigan couldn't deny how suited he was as he smiled and traded barbs, it made sense considering Tevinter was perhaps more ruthless at the Game than even Orlais.

Varric had been an interesting choice and the best out of her close rogue-classed companions that Kiara had informed her of. Morrigan remembered the dwarf well, if only because of how delighted Kieran would become as the dwarf spun his stories. Varric had seemed surprised by the number of fans he found himself surrounded by, but quickly recovered and charmed them which didn't surprise Morrigan.

Both Dorian and Varric was being obviously guarded by the Adaar twins, Ataash with Dorian and Asaara with Varric, both looking almost uncomfortable in their uniform.

Their younger sister, Asalsa, stood next to the ex-Seeker. Cassandra had a scowl on her face as if the whole ballroom had personally offended her, which Morrigan supposed was likely, as there was a reason she had chosen the life as warrior instead of a Lady or Princess that she had been born. It was more the scowl than the Qunari mage that kept people away from her and thus away from Asalsa, something that Morrigan was sure played into why neither Ataash or Asaara seemed bothered by being apart from their beloved younger sister.

The Inquisitor herself was being shadowed by the towering form of Iron Bull that Morrigan recognised from her love's letters.

Josephine, Cullen and Lelianna was placed around the ballroom and only the women looked comfortable in their surrounds—poor Commander Cullen looked very flustered surrounded by so many women and a few men.

Vala wasn't readily visible, but Morrigan had caught sight of her red hair and pierced ears as she moved amongst the masked servants like she belonged. She was no doubt the reason that the Inquisitor knew of the problems with the kitchen was because of her and that Vala helped her get access to it.

Morrigan didn't know exactly what had happened, but she could guess and was sure her guesses were corrected when the sickened face of the Inquisitor hurried towards the ballroom, a hint of blood at her cuffs and one of her soldiers walking away with her sword and shield.

It was now time to introduce herself, Morrigan thought as she near glided towards the Inquisitor.

* * *

There was only one person that Lelianna had told Grace with utmost certainty was not, and would not, work with the Venatori and it was the woman that just called at to her, dressed in reddish purple and black, a smirk curling her darkly painted lips.

Morrigan, Occult Advisor of the Empress, Apostate, and Veteran of the Fifth Blight.

_She's makes a powerful friend and a fearsome enemy_, Lelianna's voice echoed in the back of her mind as the older woman prowled forward with animal-like grace, the gold of her eyes too akin to those of an animal for Grace to be wholly comfortable under her gaze.

And yet, this was the only person outside of the Inquisition and the Companions that Grace knew with certainty wasn't Venatori—though she wasn't sure what made Lelianna so certain when she was suspicious of everyone else.

Or at least she wasn't sure until Morrigan left her for the ballroom and she caught sight of Kiara Cadash dressed in ceremonial armour giving Morrigan her arm and a loving kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah, she's Kiara's wife," Bull informed her in undertone.

Of course she is, Grace thought to herself before she was asked to dance by a Grand-Duchess.

* * *

Grace had just finished revealing all that Florianne had done and about to demand her men to seize her when a knife buried itself into her neck making the Grand-Duchess choke on her blood as her hand attempt to reach up before she buckled straight into her brother's arms as sharp gasps and screams echoed through the room.

Grace's eyes locked with the dark eyes of Kiara Cadash, her lopsided smile that looked more like a smirk was clear to her gaze before the older woman shrugged almost helplessly and mouthed a simple 'oops' as if it was an accident that one of her throwing-knives was lodged into the neck of the dying Grand-Duchess.

Well at least she wouldn't have to sit in judgement for her, it's only a week after she's returns to Skyhold that she will realise that idea was naïve as the Empress actually sent her cousin's body to be judged.

* * *

The shit that Kiara got into frightened Varric and he wasn't ashamed to admit that or admit that the woman, one of his oldest friends, terrified him in a way that few people did.

Maybe it was because he knew for a fact that she had continued and killed a dragon after it severely burn her and still had the burns marring her breast and ribs to prove it. Maybe it was because he knew for a fact she had met with the leaders of a Nest of Antivan Crows with a sack filled with the heads of their own assassins that had been sent after her.

Perhaps it was because he also knew for a fact that Kiara once shoved an explosive-containers down the throat of a giant—Malika had been very graphic on just how hard it was to get giant blood and organs out of everything. Perhaps it was because she actually made demons run from her.

It could even be because he knew that Kiara could gut someone with barely a blink and a slightest wrinkle of her nose, that she could lie as easily as she told the truth, and she knew too damn much for it to be normal.

Perhaps it's because he knew that the only reason she joined the Inquisition as an ally was because of her son, because of the fate that Grace had shown her would befall her son, and if it wasn't for that then she would have stayed away, stayed out of it almost fully apart form a helping hand here and there.

Or it could be the shit she gets away with and does.

Kiara isn't a noble—bastard noble many may assume, but still not a noble—and yet she was able to play King-maker in Ferelden. It had been Kiara Cadash—a fucking mercenary—not Arl Eamon that put Alistair Theirin on the throne, it is Kiara Cadash—who only has her rather honourable reputation as mercenary which is an oxymoron in itself—that convinced the nobles of the Ferelden to accept Alistair Theirin as their king and destroyed all of Loghain Mac Tir's plans.

It had been Kiara Cadash that Maric Theirin entrusted with documents claiming Alistair as his son, it's Kiara Cadash who Cailan Theirin had also entrusted with documents claiming Alistair as his heir.

And now Kiara Cadash had publicly murdered the cousin of the Empress of Orlais, but Varric knew that she'll get away with it.

She's a Fereldan Knight and she killed an Orlesian noble, but she is also a Orlais citizen and wife of the Empress' Occult Advisor and she killed a traitor to the throne.

And people wondered why he was so terrified of his old friend?

He thought the real question should be; why aren't you scared of her too?

* * *

"You're not scary," the young boy's voice called out to her as Grace was walking through the garden of Skyhold and Grace looked to the side as young boy stopped just outside her reach.

"Why did you think I'm scary?" Grace can only ask in bemusement as she met familiar looking dark brown eyes.

"Mother said you were scary," he told her matter-of-factly and Grace wondered who his mother was and why she would ever say that. "But you're not," there was a frown on his face as he stared up at her. "You're just like everyone else apart from the light."

The boy sounded vaguely disappointed by this.

"Kieran," Morrigan called out as she reached them, a pale arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close as cool gold eyes met Grace's almost disbelieving gaze. "Inquisitor."

"Mother," Kieran greeted, leaning into his mother's embrace, and Grace can't help her gaze falling to his wrists where a familiar bracelet was tied around one, almost a perfect twin to the one that Kiara wore.

"You should be studying," Morrigan's voice was slightly reproachful and yet Grace was still stuck on the fact that Kiara's son was before her, Kiara's son with her eyes and a mix of Morrigan and Kiara's features, his hair lighter than either of his mothers' and a warm dark auburn colour. "Not bothering the Inquisitor."

"Mother," Kieran whined, stubborn dislike settling on his face at the thought of studying and Grace was struck with how much he looked like Kiara like that.

"Kieran," Morrigan countered in a nonsense tone. "Go back to your studies or I will not allow your Mum teach you that new sword-trick."

A pout falls on his face before he sighed and with one last—still vaguely disappointed—look at Grace, he walked off towards the stairs that would lead him to the Companions set of rooms.

"Inquisitor," Morrigan intoned before she turned to follow after her son.

"You told him I was scary," Grace blurted out and Morrigan glanced back, gold eyes cool and distanced almost like Kiara's eyes were when they looked at her but without the coldness that Kiara's always held. "Why?"

"Because everything you have done and will do, it'll change the world as we know it—for good or ill, none of knows yet. How is that not frightening?" Morrigan asked almost lightly. "You have made people believe in you, they follow you with fevered loyalty as if you were Andraste herself and they will make sure your will is fulfilled. Even my dear wife believes in you."

"Kiara hates me," the words slip out before Grace could censor them and Morrigan actually smirked as she looked at Grace.

"Kiara doesn't hate you," the mage told her matter-of-factly. "She thinks it takes too much effort to hate people, she just doesn't like you and she doesn't have to like you to believe in you. Don't take it personally, Kiara doesn't really like people."


	59. Chapter 59

Things started to move more quickly after the ball, plans were made and adjusted as they set their sights on the Warden Stronghold.

Kiara's Companions, and the woman herself, had been convinced to stay with the Inquisition by Lelianna though Grace was certain that the older woman only stayed for her wife and son.

Despite hearing the tales of them fighting beside each other during the Blight, it was still surprising to see Sereda and Kiara getting along when together when Sereda and Stroud were at each other's throat in certain ways.

Still it was a boon to count the Companions and Kiara on their side during the assault on the Stronghold—something that Cullen was thankful for.

Grace was thankful of that too, but she was uneasy in Kiara's presence now as she remembered the ease in which she killed a noble woman—cousin of the Empress of Orlais—in front of dozens of people and walked away without even a token slap to her wrist.

Grace thought she finally understood why Varric was so afraid of Kiara, she had yet to understood how he could balance that fear—tempered that fear—with his friendship with her.

* * *

Perhaps Sereda should have felt sympathy for the Wardens, but it was hard to when they weren't part of her Wardens, when they were part of the group that came to Ferelden when everything was said and done (and they were nursing their wounds and thanking everything they held holy that they were still alive) and disapprove of what they had to do to win.

Sereda couldn't really sympathy anymore, not after Velanna (who deserted her group in the Deeproads, she was their Healer and she abandoned them because she thought she had seen her sister and the two dead wardens and the gravely injured one that had been dragged back by the last surviving member of the group was on her head), not after Anders (who she had allowed to leave, who had blown up Kirkwall's Chantry and killed dozens of people, who started the war between the mages and Templars).

Stroud wouldn't understand, couldn't understand, as they were his Wardens, his branch of the Order. The Inquisitor didn't understand, perhaps she should after the mages.

Kiara understood, but her understanding was different, limited, as she only felt sympathy for her own, for children and animals she wasn't hunting or planning on killing.

Sympathy didn't come easily to one like Kiara, Sereda knew, and she also knew that was one of the reasons she had disliked the human so much when they first met.

The Blight had changed that, she may not like Kiara some of the time, but she was her friend and she was a respected ally. Her only ally outside of her Wardens as Stroud had already courted the friendship of the Inquisitor before Sereda had arrived.

* * *

Malika scowled down at her axe as she cleaned it.

It didn't seat right with her, attacking the Wardens, but they had to or how else would they stop the Wardens' stupid ass plan to unleash a demon pissing army on to the world.

Dwarves remembered and honoured their alliance with the Wardens more greatly than every other race on Thedas—it was honoured and remembered more strongly in the Warrior Houses.

House Cadash had been a Warrior House, they had sent their sons and sometimes their daughters into the Deeproads to keep their Thaig safe, to drive back the Darkspawn, with the Wardens as their allies in the dark.

Pissin' hell, Shale—her bloody ancestor—had agreed to become a Golem to fight back those corrupt bastards.

Banished from Orzammar, they may have been, House Cadash remembered their old allies.

Malika's tie to the Wardens was more personally, stronger, it was the bond of lovers that bound her to the Wardens, her bond to Faren made her more uneasy at the thought of attacking and killing Wardens.

But Faren had reminded her firmly, often, that the Wardens they were fighting weren't their Wardens, weren't the Wardens that Malika renewed the Cadash's old oath.

It still made her uneasy.

"Again," Kiara's voice broke her from her thoughts and she looked up to watch her sister put Kieran through his paces with blunt swords.

It was odd to see Kiara move so slow as she trained Kieran, Kiara may have great strength—shown by the firm muscles under scarred skin from years of training—but she was more known for her speed.

She was renowned for being light of foot and quick with the blade before her strength after all.

Kieran's sword went clattering to the hard packed floor as the tip of Kiara's sword stopped before his chest, directly over his heart.

Kieran huffed, sweat causing his auburn hair to stick to his forehead and darkened to almost his Mum's hair colour, as he glared with dark eyes at his mum.

Kiara smiled at her son's annoyance and tilted her head towards his fallen sword as she pulled her own back and Kieran quickly picked it up and just raised it to defend as Kiara's 'again' filled the air and she attacked, blunted iron meeting blunted iron as one hand reached through the clash and adjust Kieran's stance just so before Kiara broke their lock and again attacked.

Malika eyed her nephew's form, he didn't need as many adjustments as he had needed a year ago and Malika could easily see him becoming a skilled swordsman with his magic being something to fall back on when needed.

It was a different way to train a mage child, Malika had gathered, but it was useful as it would make it harder for people to tell he was a mage especially if when confronted he went for a weapon and not pulled on his magic.

Malika was certain that was why Kiara had chosen to train her son to be a swordsman like she was a swordswoman, an added layer of protection to her only son for when she couldn't be there for him.

Malika slipped her axe back in it holder and watched the training session—it was a better use of her time than brooding about the Wardens—and called out encouragement for her young nephew.

* * *

Things began to move quickly, Kiara noticed, and soon they were storming the Warden's Stronghold and it was easy to fall into the motions of battle.

The rhythm lolled her as she went through the steps that were ingrained on to her soul. Step forward, thrust, twist, retreat, turn, block, stab, twist, retreat.

Malika and Saya were at her flanks, stepping in time with her and moving with her as misguided and corrupted Wardens and Demons fell before them.

The battle was brought to a stand-still as the spine-tingling roar of Corypheus' corrupted dragon filled the air and the Wardens turned on the demons and fought beside the Inquisition forces, no longer enemies but allies.

* * *

"Wallowing in self-pity?" Kiara's drily asked question made Grace glance up from her tankard of ale, still almost full, and she watched as the older woman settled on the chair across from her. "Upset you aren't Andraste's chosen?"

"Why do you care?" Grace asked as she watched the older woman take a deep sip of her own ale.

"I don't," Kiara stated bluntly, "I never believed you were chosen by Andraste, you know? So I'm the best person to talk to as most of your friends did believe in their own way."

"When I woke up, when I heard what they called me, I didn't believe it," Grace began after a moment, staring at her ale because she needed to talk to someone and Kiara was right. "But I guess after a while I wanted to believe, wanted to believe I was put on this path purposely instead of by mistake and bad luck—it just turns out it was all a mistake and bad luck."

"Maybe," Kiara said and Grace looked up. "Perhaps you were chosen for this, not obviously and maybe not by Andraste. You heard the Divine's call for help, you went despite not knowing the danger ahead, and you survived something that no one should survive. You survive and fought and lead people that was one happy to see you killed, you have fought against Corypheus and still do though you could have walked away, you could have left."

"I couldn't leave," she argued. "They needed me, needed the mark, I couldn't leave them!"

Kiara smiled at her, it was almost fond and that startled Grace into silence.

"And that is why someone did chose you," Kiara said easily. "Or perhaps this is why you chose to follow this path."

"Is that meant to make me feel better?" Grace asked and Kiara smiled more amused than anything.

"No," Kiara replied readily. "But it did stop you brooding."

With that said, the older woman stood and left with her tankard in hand.

Grace watched as Kiara settled down on the long table that the Companions were sat around, watched as Kieran moved and sat on his mum's lap as Morrigan linked their fingers together without turning away from her conversation with Ellana.

Grace almost smiled—a reluctant smile—before shaking her head, she would never understand Kiara Cadash.

* * *

Grace wanted to twitch as she felt the eyes of dozens of demons and spirits watching this confrontation with interest.

Flemeth—_Mythal_—stared back at her daughter with gold eyes, one armoured hand placed on her grandson's shoulder.

Morrigan was almost vibrating with tension as she stared with fear at her mother, her own golden eyes darting towards her son in almost desperate fear, a need to grab him and protect him, but she couldn't move, Mythal's will didn't allow it.

"Please," Morrigan's voice cracked as she plead. "Not my son."

Flemeth's face was unmoved by her daughter's plea.

Grace did twitch when she suddenly felt the gazes vanish and it drew attention to her from both Morrigan and Flemeth.

Flemeth's lips curled into a hint of smile and Morrigan breathed out a single name in relief;

"Kiara,"

Kiara Cadash came striding through the Fade, a slight frown on her face as she glanced around in distaste.

"I truly hate this place," she declared as she came to a stop, between the opposing side before her dark eyes focused on her son. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Mum," Kieran replied easily.

"She wants to take Kieran!" Morrigan burst out and Kiara gazed flatly at Flemeth.

"Take what you have come here and bother my family no longer," Kiera told Flemeth making Morrigan cry out.

"Our son!"

"She'll not take him," Kiara reassured Morrigan without looking back. "Morrigan's done with your test."

"Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if you were my daughter," Flemeth mused, not taking her gaze from Kiara.

"Perhaps in another life, we will see," Kiara replied and Flemeth smiled before turning to her grandson.

"No more dreams?" Kieran asked hopefully and Grace watched Flemeth's face soften.

"No more dreams," she confirmed as she placed a hand just above his head and began to absorb a glowing orb from the boy as his parents, his mothers, watched them intensely.

Kieran shuddered slightly as Flemeth pulled away and Morrigan took that as her cue to cry out her son's name, making the boy move towards his mother and letting her wrap her arms around him securely.

Flemeth watched them with an odd look on her face and waited till Morrigan looked up at her.

"A soul cannot be forced on the unwilling," she told her daughter. "You were never in any danger from me."

Morrigan's face creased in confusion as Flemeth turned toward Kiara.

"Beware confronting the Dread Wolf," Flemeth told her and Kiara almost smiled, it was a wry smile.

"Funny," she remarked as she began to move towards her son and wife. "I was going to tell you the same thing."

Flemeth laughed slightly before turning as Kiara placed one hand on her wife's back and entangled her fingers in the locks of her son, a hint of tension that Grace hadn't noticed before draining from her frame as she hunched slightly over them protectively.

It made Grace realise that Kiara hadn't been a calm as she seemed when she entered the confrontation.

Grace glanced over to where Flemeth was and realised that the older woman—elven goddess in human form—had already left.

"Let's get out of here," Grace suggested quietly and none of the Cadash family argued.

* * *

**AN: This is getting harder and harder to write because of writer's block, but I still hope you liked this chapter. **


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